Full Metal Jacket
by Angelinsydney
Summary: COMPLETE. Winnie moved out of Spike's shadow and became a crime scene investigator. She would prove herself in a case that could get her killed and her loved ones threatened. My usual offering of suspense, crime solving and generous sprinkling of humour, love and sweet nothings. A member of the Scarlatti family will pass away in this gripping story. Introducing: SERENITY BLUE.
1. Life-saver in a Bikini

_Author's Note: First Winnie-centric story. She deserves it and I believe she's a very interesting character. And because she doesn't have to be an appendage to Spike. _

_If you're new to my story-telling, I married Winnie to Spike in the story "Hope" and she became a Crime Scene Investigator in the story "The Long Shadow of Michaelangelo..."_

_The bracelet with a tracking device first appeared in the story "Hell Hath No Fury."_

**Life-saver in a Bikini**

Winnie came out of the bathroom in a strapless white bikini top and matching bikini bottom. Most people in their right mind, most certainly the male of the specie, would have dropped everything just to ogle at the molato beauty but not her husband of a year and life-partner for three. She supposed this was what's referred to in the vernacular as "being taken for granted."

He was busy playing with Lego building his Star Wars fiefdom on a day off that's predicted to be sunny, with an afternoon cool breeze and a chance of evening rain. She sat before him but received no acknowledgment. Sometimes when he becomes engrossed with something, _anything_, he gets tunnel vision. She gripped his hands and said, as if speaking to a child, "Spike, look at me."

The resident genius looked up and smiled at Mrs Scarlatti, "Wow, you look marvelous. Sexy." Her eyes narrowed when he just as quickly returned to his project. Unwilling to accept defeat just yet, she cupped his face, "Spike, Let's go to the beach. Come on, please."

He made a face, "I'm always out on the field, I just wanna stay home today." That's part of their problem, he's always out on the field chasing bad people and she's always in the lab nailing bad people to their crime. Valid as it may be so, it's not an excuse not to spend time with one's wife, she reasoned. Or, she could stay home as the same argument could be said of it being not an excuse not to spend time with one's husband. On second thought staying home was no guarantee they'd spend quality time together, _Not when he's like that_.

She exhaled. _Since when did my personal happiness hinge on his availability anyway?_ She was her own person for 28 years before he came along and she led a successfully happy life then. _That settles it,_ she went back to the bathroom to finish preparing. After a couple of minutes she came out wrapped in a yellow soft cotton Balinese sarong with prints of sun, moon and stars in reddish-brown colouring. Her curly hair tied in a pig-tail.

She padded softly across the room and patted Liley and Moppet on the head. One glance at their food bowl and she realised Spike has not bothered to feed them either. Her blood pressure rose but held her temper. It's the first time in three weeks she's not seeing the back of him so she decided it wasn't worth a full-on verbal stoush. Opening the cupboard, she found dog food and filled their food and water containers. She really wanted to raise the issue and clobber him on the head, but they hardly see each other these days so the last thing she wanted was to have a domestic. _Not today. _ Deep breathe.

Grateful for the care and affection, their tails wagged with great abandon. The canines lapped up the food offering like there was no tomorrow. At four years, Liley, the Canadian Eskimo dog, was massive. She weighed 30 kgs and stood at 2 feet on her four legs. Moppet, the three-legged golden retriever and a trained bomb sniffer was not nearly as big. They have had to put her on a stricter diet since gaining too much weight on three legs would be a risky for the canine.

She wondered if they should go with her for a play, she decided they should. Kneeling next to them, she gave them both a back rub and she said, "We'll leave as soon as you finish".

Winnie went about the business of putting her summer shoes on, a pair of roman sandals that enhanced the small of her ankle, not that her husband noticed. The only accessory she's wearing was the black rubber bracelet Spike gave her, which she promised not to remove – EVER. It was fitted with a tracking device.

She didn't want to worry about anything at the beach but the dogs, so she took nothing but a bottle of sunscreen. Not even a towel, the sarong would serve the same purpose just as well. Glancing at the wall clock, she decided they best leave now. It's already seven in the morning, Liley and Moppet being thick coated didn't do well in extreme heat, they have to be back by eleven at the latest to avoid heat stroke. "Come on guys, let's go..."

She was on her way out when Moppet barked at her and then at Spike. Her eyes rolled upwards, "Ok, just for you." Winnie knelt next to her husband, kissed him and said "Bye, see you later" into his mouth. He responded with "Bye, be careful," then return to what he was doing. She smirked when she noticed a just completed bat-winged flying machine.

The distance from the house to the beach was slightly in excess of six kms (4 miles, give or take a few), and being physically fit, she could ran it in just over half an hour. The canines were much faster at full speed but they never left her side. It's a common sight to see her running sandwiched between Liley who often took point and Moppet just behind them.

They reached the esplanade and slowed to a walk. The fitness fanatics were already at boot camp. The temperature has risen to 28°C, they felt hotter though having worked up a sweat. The dogs saw the ice cream man parked his van and hurried over. _This is Spike's fault_, Dad always gave them treats and now they think it's an entitlement.

She chased after them. The ice cream man; heavy weight, wrinkled, gray-haired and practically an institution at the beach; smiled broadly. "Hello Liley. Hello Moppet."

"Hey Esteban, how are you?" she said as she screeched to a halt in front of the van.

The ice cream vendor, who doubled as defacto information guide for tourists, beamed at her. "You're a real sight for sore eyes," they hugged as he said this as good friend often do. "I'm good, thanks for asking. I haven't seen you guys for awhile."

Winnie replied, "Just been very busy. I'm doing a different job now."

"I know, Spike told me. CSI, huh?" Esteban went back inside the van and started scooping out ice cream into two bowls without being asked, "Sorry... not today Estebs, I didn't bring any money so no ice cream for them."

He shook his head, "No way." He looked down at them as the canine stared back with pleading eyes. "They get treat," he decided.

"Ok, I'll pay you next time I see you."

"Don't worry about it."

"Estebs... unless you accept payment, they're not getting any."

The ice cream man set two bowls of ice cream on the ground and told the canines, "Your mom is a real toughie."

He straightened up, "What about you Mrs Scarlatti?" she smiled and said, "The usual." He knew she meant two scoops of gelato in mango flavour. They caught up with their latest news till the dogs licked the bowls clean.

"Well, I better be going. I'm dying for a swim and these two need to exercise. See you on our way back." Esteban, the ice cream man grinned and waved them off.

The azure water was very inviting, she unwrapped her sarong to reveal a toned body. Beach goers started to trickle in, starting with young couples then groups of teenagers. Later in the day, young married couples with children in tow would be arriving, she intended to be done by then. Little kids and two big dogs tend not to mix - in the eyes of protective parents anyway, not that she blame them.

The water was cold, too cold for comfort. But after battling the surf for a few minutes, her muscles started to burn stored fats, converting this to energy, warming her up. Liley and Moppet joined her in the surf, running in and out of the water, and shaking their heavy coat of fur, showering everyone unfortunate enough to stand close by.

It was tempting to stay for longer but the temperature had soared far higher than the weather bureau's forecast. Thinking of the dogs' welfare, she whistled to get their attention, regulars who were playing with Liley and Moppet responded with a collective, "Ooowww." She smiled, "It's getting too hot for them, I'll bring them out again next week, promise."

She collected the sarong off the sands, gave it a sharp shake to remove as much gritty sand as possible, and wrapped herself with it again. The dogs followed obediently but stopped again at Esteban's ice cream van, Winnie gave them the look and a firm "No."

Esteban came around to give the dogs a pat. Standing about two feet away from them was a man, mid to late-30s, bearded and tall. Winnie observed he looked out of place, everyone else was dressed for summer. Broad shorts and not much else for men, and mainly bathing suits for women. Even Esteban was wearing a cool T-shirt and string cotton pants to battle the heat. This guy was wearing long-sleeve shirt, dressed pants and leather shoes. After the cursory inspection, Winnie turned her full attention to Esteban who waffled on about his three sons, "They're coming from America to celebrate my 60th birthday."

Suddenly, without warning or gunshot sound effects one heard in movies, the man standing two feet away dropped to the ground, blood splattered out of his head. Winnie didn't give it much thought, she went to bend down over to the man but knew instantly from entry wound on his head that there was nothing she could do. "He's gone," she said. She looked up in time to see Esteban drop to his knees, clucthing his stomach.

The vendor weighing around 99 kgs (220 pounds) nearly squashed Winnie underneath him, but she got up just in time to catch his head before he was knocked himself to the ground unconscious. She laid him down, that's when she saw the bullet holes on his stomach, it entered from the right side and exited to the left. Her brain processed the information: One bullet two victims. It went through the man's skull and on a downward trajectory hit Esteban's stomach. _Thank God for his extended stomach._

By this time, bystanders have gathered round to see what had happened. She desperately looked around for something to stem the blood flow, "I need your towel," but for some reason, the onlooker, a woman, shook her head and refused to hand it over. She didn't have any time, she unwrapped her sarong, ripped it in two and covered the dead man's face with the other half. She used the other half to plug the bullet holes as best she could. As she tended to Esteban's wound she yelled for someone, anyone to "Call 9-11."

A young man of around 18 did so, probably the only decent human being that day. Busy with saving a life, she didn't noticed that she was being filmed by the crowd with their cell phones.

"Talk to me, look at me, Esteban."

The vendor looked at her with glazed eyes, "Esteban, tell me about your sons. Tell me when they're coming to see you." She kept him talking, slapping his face sharply whenever he closed his eyes, "Esteban, it's gonna be ok."

The news film crew soon arrived at the scene, ahead of EMS. "Did anyone call 9-11?" she asked the gathered throng again, "I did," said the teener.

Another minute, EMS arrived but not soon enough as the news crew had started filming, the camera focused on Winnie. The reporter, a microphone in the hand, blattered on, "This is coming to you live from Bluffer's Park. In one of the best days of the year, as you can see (camera panned skyward), the sun is out, the water is blue as blue can be, and the people, they're all here to have a nice day on the beach. But now it is a scene of a gruesome shooting. A man has been killed. Another wounded and from where I stand, it appears there may be a third victim. Her white bikini is covered in blood."

The female reporter accosted an onlooker who was happey to be interviewed, she claimed to see the dead man go down and the couple with two dogs go down, too. "I know the man, he's the ice cream vendor. I don't know the woman."

Spike's phone buzzed, the caller could only be Sgt Parker, he has a unique ring tone for the boss. "Hey, Boss?"

"Are you guys ok? Is Winnie ok?"

Spike was momentarily confused, "Why shouldn't she be?"

"You're not with her, turn on the TV Spike."

He felt goosebumps and a sense of dread. He turned on the TV and there was a freeze-framed upper body shot of Winnie covered in blood. He hang up on Parker, grabbed a polo shirt which he didn't bother buttoning up; snatched his car keys and wallet which by forced of habit he always left on the mantel one on top of each other for easy reach. Barefoot, he rushed to his car.

The size of the crowd has swelled, Winnie tried to get out of the midst of them, the two dogs following closely behind. Spike couldn't get any closer to the beach, a crime scene has been established and a perimeter set. He left his car in the first parking spot he found.

Jogging to where the ice cream van was parked, he became near hysterical with worry when he surveyed the crowd. In the end it was Liley and Moppet who found him; both dogs sniffed the familiar scent in the air, "Dad" and bolted in the other direction. Winnie gave chase and gasped with relief when she spotted him.

"Where's Mom?" he asked the canine, worry etched on his face.

"Here," she said. He ran his fingers through his hair in relief, walked over and pulled her for a tight embrace. "I'm so sorry. Are you hurt?"

"No," I'm ok.

He removed his shirt to cover her, she was shivering now that the shock has passed. He put a protective arm around her and said, "Let's go home."

But some people with nothing better to do kept filming with their cameras. That night, videos appeared on the net of the sexy life saver in a pair of white bikini. Winnie was horrified when told that a video of her had gone viral. Spike spent all night shutting down the sites but it was a losing uphill battle.

Winnie's life just got complicated. They just didn't know how complicated until the first parcel arrived at the forensics lab where she work. Things were about to get really, really ugly.


	2. Pass the Parcel

_Author's Note: Winnie was kidnapped by a serial abductor-killer in the multi-story "Hell Hath No Fury." Please read it for back story._

**Pass the Parcel**

Three days after Winnie became an instant internet sensation much to her chagrin and her beloved husband, and her co-workers, she received the first of many parcels. Letters, postcards, packages started pouring in to the crime lab where she worked. Many were addressed to her by name with just Toronto Crime Lab as the address. But some were simply addressed to _The_ S_exy Girl in White Bikini_ and still found their way to her, no thanks to the detective work of overzealous Canada Post delivery department.

The up-loaders were to blame for the viral postings but the media had a lot to answer for for the deluge of fan mails, if one could call them that. The media didn't let up until they knew who she was by name and what she did for a living. Thankfully, professionally, she kept her maiden name of Camden. In hindsight, it was a good thing as the kerfuffle didn't affect her husband Spike Scarlatti.

The Receptionist,with a capital R, Cora de Leon has worked at the crime lab for the best of 30 years. She was also the administrator, time keeper, file clerk, and security guard all rolled into one at the underfunded department. She ferociously guarded the secrets of the lab and its people, so much so she was bestowed the nickname The Lion by outsiders. An homage to the English translation of her Spanish last name.

"Hey, Bonita," Cora called out excitedly as she finished gathering the fan mails in one box. Spotting the huge container, the curly haired molato beauty approached the reception desk, and casually inquired, "What's that?"

"Your fan mails... that's because you're _muy guapa_." Mrs Scarlatti blushed at the compliment, muy guapa means very pretty in Spanish.

From day one, Cora had such an affection for the young woman who, in her opinion, was a breath of fresh air in a department full of cynics, skeptics, nerds and analytics. They've all tried at one point or another to correct her - that the proper noun was analyst not analytic. Her standard reply was "Analytic is better because I could give full emphasis on the first four letters, as in **anal**ytic".

Winnie's left eyebrow went up, and with affection she addressed the older woman, with the title '_Tia'_ meaning Aunt. "Tia Cora, you're joking."

"No, I'm not." she took one postcard out to show Winnie, "Look! Look here! This one says to the _Sexy Girl in white Bikini_, addressed to Toronto Crime Lab. No one else sexy round here," she said. Winnie laughed out loud in her usual crackly way. "Ok, I'll take it but they'll all end up in the bin anyway, there's no way I'd be answering any of them."

Cora jokingly said that if there was a marriage proposal in the pack to please pass it on to her. That she's in need of a toy boy. Winnie hugged the matronly woman who was like a mother to her from the start, the woman who made her transition to the crime lab effortless.

Winnie got home a little late due to her "celebrity". On the way home, she passed by her favourite chemist who insisted on having a photo taken with her much to her horror. She couldn't refuse however as she's known the staff for a long time. The same thing happened at her butcher's, her fruiterer's and her florist's. The only respite was the check-out chick at the supermarket, _Thank God, she doesn't know me._

She knew before she saw him that Spike was home for their house was filled with music. The voice of Luciano Pavarotti belting out the aria "Nessum Dorma" was soaring. He came out of the bedroom as she was coming in through the front door, "Hi Angel boy, how's your day been?" He greeted her with a long kiss, a kiss he hasn't given her for some months, "That's for making me the envy of the universe," he said cheekily.

She laughed and said, "Make yourself useful then and get the rest of the groceries." She dropped the bags of fresh vegetables and fruit on the bench counter to attend to the canines. Even Liley and Moppet seemed to be on a high, nudging her legs til she dropped down on her knees to pay them her undivided attention. She gave them each a treat and off they went to leave her alone.

She arranged the fruit in a pretty fiery red ceramic bowl, starting with heavier green apples at the bottom, to the lighter kiwi fruit on top. To give the kitchen a burst of colour, she placed it in the centre of the island bench. That done, she set aside rocket leaves and other vegetables for dinner and the rest she stored away in the fridge. Just then, Spike came in balancing a parcel in one arm and carrying five bags of groceries in the other.

"You didn't have to bring them all in at once," she said. He smiled, "One trip to the car is better than two. I don't want to be away from you longer than I have to."

She crossed her arms and gave him the eye, "What gives?"

"What do you mean `What gives'?" feigning hurt.

"Last Sunday you ignored me for Legos."

He pouted then smiled, craters appearing on his cheeks, "That was just a one-off. It won't happen again, especially since I found out how many guys want to marry you. I nearly killed half a dozen blokes today." She shook her head, rolled her eyes and said he has nothing to worry about.

Changing the topic, she asked him if he would like coffee to which his reply was "Yes, please. The usual." He went to see what was in the box and was mortified to find the fan mails addressed to his wife, some messages were frighteningly threatening in their undertone.

Whilst Winnie made coffee and attended to the kids, Spike sorted the mail into two piles. One safe and the other unsafe. He planned to catalog those he deemed "unsafe" and track the senders in some way in case one of them turn out to be a stalker, wanna-be kidnapper. The woman of his life was kidnapped once by a demented serial killer so he wasn't going to take anything for granted this time.

"Here's your coffee," Winnie came bearing a mug and saucer of his favourite caffeinated beverage. She sat next to him and read the pile collecting on Spike's right, the safe ones. Occasionally she'd giggle and at times she'd go all hysterical, belly laughing with amusement. "Listen to this, Angel boy... `I'm Jeremy. I'm eight. I'm the most clever kid in my school at Math. You're the woman of my dreams. My mom said I can get married with you when I'm 18. If you stop growing older, I can catch up with you. Love, Jeremy.'"

When she was done perusing the ones on Spike's right, she moved to read the ones on the left. Spike put a hand over hers in a manner of two people playing snap. "No, Miss Sunshine. Don't. They're not worth your while." She looked at him and wondered what it was that worried him, he smiled tightly and said, "Shall I make dinner?"

"No, my turn tonight," she said. "Would you like anything in particular?"

"Nah, anything you make is fine. I love you."

"I love you, too." She got up to head for the kitchen and busied herself with making Risotto. She's already decided on a blueberry cheesecake of the frozen variety for dessert. She'll serve the Risotto with a handful of rocket leaves._ Simple really,_ she thought.

When he was done, Spike took a pile of nasty fan mails to his study and kept them under lock and key. He would start his investigations tonight, discreetly, to keep her inquisitive wife off the game. But there was one thing among the pile that didn't make sense – yet! He has a feeling, however, that it maybe very, very important and may have something with the killing at Bluffer's Park.

At dinner, the on-going investigations became the hot topic between Mr and Mrs Scarlatti.

"Have they identified the victim?" Spike has been very curious about the case, not least because his wife played a prominent part in it.

"Yeah, he's Thomas Andrews-Bergen, forensic accountant with one of the four biggest accounting consultancies in the world. Top-notch apparently, one of the best at finding missing millions and spotting accounting malfeasance. No known criminal associations and no criminal history."

"Who's in-charge of investigation?"

"Det Anton Curtis, RCMP Homicide Squad." Winnie swallowed a mouthful of Risotto before continuing. "The shell casing was found up on the bluff. The bullet was fired at a distance of about 800 metres, the sniper used a M14 rifle with 7.62x51 mm NATO full metal jacket."

Spike whistled, "Wow, M14...archaic." The M14 was the standard issue U.S. rifle from 1959 to 1970, used for U.S. Army and Marine Corps basic and advanced individual training, and was the standard issue infantry rifle for U.S. military personnel until it was replaced by the M16 rifle in 1970. The rifle remains in limited front line service within all branches of the U.S. Military. It is also used as a ceremonial weapons by honour guards, ceremonial guards and drill teams. The M14 rifle was also the last American "battle rifle" (weapons that fire full-power rifle ammunition, such as the 7.62×51mm) issued to U.S. military personnel.

Winnie gave her husband her full attention, she knew he had more to say. "Win, a true Vietnam era M14 would sell in the gun market for around US$20,000."

"Wow...Really?" it was her turn to be gobsmacked.

Spike continued... "**IF** it has proper documentation. I'ts difficult to purchase a Vietnam era M14. They were never released from Government issue. A true US Government M14 that you can legally own does not exist except for a few very rare examples."

Her fork was poised for another bite when she stopped to ask, "You think we're looking for an American sniper?"

"Not necessarily..." He paused to have a sip of white wine. "Trained operators will not use firearms of their real origin on black ops... assuming this was a black op. For example, a Brit SAS wouldn't use a C8 carbine cause it's common knowledge that its the Regiment's primary assault carbine. Instead he'd likely use a Chinese-made weapon. So I'm afraid til you know more about your assassin, you can't jump into any conclusion."

Win thought about the implication of what Spike said, "The fact he used a M14, could it mean the sniper is/was military... he may not be a Yankee... but that probability may help narrow down the parameter for the search."

Her husband gave her a face that said, _Sorry, I'm not much help. _He could only reiterate what she said. "He/she could be military. Is. Or was. Or he/ she could just be a gun collector." _Oh dear, that doesn't help_, thought Winnie.

Then, Mr Sherlock Scarlatti said with insight, "The key to finding your killer is to first find the motive. This killing, for all you know, may have a civil case behind it. Maybe they're just making it appear as if it's a black op. He's a forensic accountant, he has a lot of enemies."

They move the topic of discussion to Esteban who was a dear friend to them. They were in fact his first visitors after he woke up from life-saving emergency procedure. It was a dramatic reunion, with tears and fears expressed by both Winnie and Esteban; as well as comical. The ice cream man was upset with the doctor who stitched up his wounds for not thinking of doing him a tummy tuck. "The bastard," he said, "could have at least made my stomach smaller in as much as he was already manhandling my spare tire." They laughed at his ability to see the good and the light in the dark.

Before they left him; and only because the nurse-in-charge kept popping in to remind them her patient needed his rest, Winnie apologised for slapping him sharply at the time. Esteban said, "Hey, don't apologise. You saved me from having to see my wife again so soon." His wife, Norma, passed away three years ago from cancer and while he joked about not wanting to join her in celestial eternity, they were very much in love to the end. Esteban's hesitation to leave Earth has more to do with a forth-coming grandchild than the fear of the afterlife.

Spike asked if she called the hospital to find out when Esteban would be release, Winnie replied that she did but at that time Det Curtis was interviewing the ice cream vendor for his version of events. And when she tried again, one of his sons was visiting. "I'll try again tomorrow... but I think he's doing well considering how busy he's been."

After dinner, they cleaned up together in an increasingly rare moment of shared domesticity. It prompted Spike to say, with nostalgic flair, how he missed the time they used to spend washing up together; Winnie flicked water to his face, "Just for that... you deserve the Oscar award."

He protested, "But I do." He went behind her as she washed up, his hands on hers, they soaped and rinsed the dishes. It was a miracle they didn't break any.

The night was still young so Spike asked Winnie to look at something very interesting from the parcel. It was a music score sheet, slipped inside an envelope address to Mrs Winnie Scarlatti, the only one out of nearly a hundred that was addressed in her married name. She looked at Spike with alarm, apart from family, co-workers and close friends no one knew her as Mrs Scarlatti.

The music score sheet had a dedication at the top, written in bold, big block PRINTS in black ink. "**YOU MUST HAVE BEEN GOING OUT OF YOUR MINDS LOOKING FOR THIS**."

"I think it's a code," said Spike thoughtfully. "I think someone is trying to tell you something. We need to decipher this."

"Do you know what kind of code it is?"

"Not yet... but I intend to find out."

Spike was too inquisitive and Winnie was too tenacious to let it pass. At the end of it, Spike and Winnie would wish they never even tried. It would wreck havoc in their lives!


	3. His Middle Name is Code-Cracker

**His Middle Name is Code-Cracker**

After dinner, they watched a movie from their ever-expanding collection; at least a hundred courtesy of Lewis Young, his eternal best friend. Midway through the iconic "Casablanca" Winnie fell asleep. Spike went to the bedroom to get a doona to cover her up from the cold. He admired her freckled face and admonished her angel to always watch over her.

He turned off the TV and the DVD player that were encased in elegantly varnished wall units. Truth was he wasn't in the least bit interested in the classic Bogart-Bergman film, a movie he has seen a gazillion times. His brain was obsessively preoccupied figuring out what code uses musical notes. _There's always something to learn,_ he said to himself thoughtfully. He was familiar with HTML code, Matrix code, Morse code, Binary code, Hexadecimal computer code, Shifted alphabet and backward alphabet codes, even LEET speak.

He started off with what he knew, which wasn't much: _It's definitely NOT a trans-positional cipher_, he mused in between nodding and saying "yes" to Winnie when she made a comment or two about the movie. She caught him out not being really there when she said how good-looking and suave Harrison Ford was, he nodded and "U hum." She poked his side, "You're not here, why don't you go to bed?"

He turned to her, "What and missed out on cuddling my wife?" She smiled, leaned in closer, her head on the crook of his neck. His steady breathing, the rise and fall of his chest was like a lullaby, putting her sleep.

With his lovely wife asleep, he moved gingerly and laid her head on a cushion, when he has covered with with a quilted doona, he padded softly on the wooden floor towards his home office. Liley came over, he knelt down to give the dog a hug around the neck. It wasn't long before Moppet was there too. "Mom's sleeping, go" he sent them out again through a doggie hatch that was so large they might as well not bother with a backdoor. They didn't worry though, it would be one brave burglar to try their backyard.

Their lives were inextricably mired in other people's problems so when Spike and Winnie decided to purchase their first family home, they picked the quiet suburb of Anson Park for they didn't just want a house, they wanted a refuge from all chaos. They chose this ordinary looking bungalow because it backed into a nature reserve. Liley and Moppet had gotten used to exploring the woods with them for leisurely walks when they lived in Quantico for six months training with the FBI, an activity they wanted to continue to do with their four-legged kids; and because it was close to their favourite beach at Bluffer's Park. It was a pricey suburb but well worth it, with the proceeds from sale of Apartment 8 the mortgage was manageable.

In the early stages of looking for a house and sorting their finances, Spike thought of parting with Apartment 7. In the end, he kept it as so much imagination and time had been invested in it, and they had so many beautiful memories there.

Jamie Dee, a young man who was once a fugitive and a cyber criminal had become a close family friend, leased it. He's been rehabilitated and now worked full-time for the Treasury Department, which according to Spike was either very clever or very dumb of the authorities.

Before they signed the lease agreement, Scarlatti reiterated his singular non-negotiable condition, that the secrets of Apartment 7 be kept secret. JD promised he won't bring anyone around, just drunken young women who won't remember a thing in the morning. Spike put him in a headlock. By and large, the young enterprising, bright young lad was as trustworthy as they came. Besides he also needed anonymity from stalkers eager to use him for criminal gains.

Renovating the house took a lot of man-hours, money and time to get it to the habitable state it was now. The three-bedroom bungalow with two bathrooms, and an outdated kitchen was transformed over a period of six months into a modern, spacious domain.

The house was fully gutted; except the master bedroom which thankfully had an en suite; to make way for the new design. During the reconstruction phase they mostly lived in squalor, soot, dust and dizzying fumes of paint, thinner, and other solvents. Winnie, on more than one occasion, asked why they don't move in with her parents for the time being. Spike convinced her that being on-site meant he could keep a close eye on the development.

She gave in because she'd rather be with him. "Ok," she said, "I'll stay but I've gotta have a say in how it comes together." Then she remembered... she looked at him with big brown eyes and said, "Wait a minute. Wait a minute. I'm supposed to be the one in charge here, not you."

"Says who?" he said pretending to forget.

"I won the 'paper, scissors, rock' contest when we bought Apartment 8. So it's my turn to design the interior of this house."

"Oh, no," he said. "There's no carry-over clause."

"But I never got to do it," she said all upset. He smiled and copied her pout. She stomped her foot angrily, he did the same just to annoy her some more. "I don't like you," she said.

"Oh, and that's supposed to make me give in," he said with a glint in his eyes. She gave him the hurt puppy look. He smiled and said, "Ok, it's your turn." She was surprised at his quick surrender.

She should be grateful but he gave in too quickly so she asked just to be sure she wasn't walking into a trap. Her arms crossed, her stance defiant, she asked, "And you won't interfere?"

"No, no interference...promise. I swear on the Constitution. Do what you want just leave me this bit, Ok? And show me the plans before submitting it for City building permit. Once we get it approved, I'll take over with the builders. Deal?"

"Deal." She was glad she didn't have to deal with burly builders. They shook hands on it then Spike lifted her off her feet, put her up against the back of the couch and gave her a lingering kiss. They both fell in the couch and made love to a promise of much better things to come.

And this was the end result of that love decision.

The house was modern and yet subdued. Her main concern was to separate the living and social spaces from the private part of the house. The solution? A thick wall, which was actually a huge storage space, stood between the two volumes of the house, separating them into the private and the social zones. The kitchen and dining space were simple, bright and minimalist. She liked the earthy feel of wood so she scoured second-hand sources of recycled timber for the floor, the kitchen bench and bespoke shelves and cabinets.

Wood was the focal point around the house, used also on built-in display shelves. The bespoke pieces were commissioned specially to display Spike's book collection. Large louver windows, framed in timber, dominate for cross ventilation.

The house has four-bedrooms; a master bedroom and three for guest use and for the future Scarlatti bunch. Being an only child, Spike wanted a big family which Winnie said she'd be more than happy to have as long as he shared the birthing duty. Personally, she did want to have four kids but she wasn't saying anything in case he held her to it.

She took inspiration from Apartment 7. The house has no door knobs, doors were all flushed against the wall, opening only when one knew where to push them open. In this case, beneath every indoor flower pot of Canadian orchids placed strategically in recessed boxes on the wall; inside the bedroom, the recessed box doubled as the indicator of where the door was situated, a gentle push and the occupant could leave the room with ease. The doors swung both ways. The orchids thrived indoors due to sunlight that flooded the interior from sky light that featured prominently on the ceiling.

The toilet and shower/bathroom were separate but side by side, again taking inspiration from Apartment 7, they were concealed by bespoke shelves. One shelf housed their massive collection of music CDs, which when slid to the right would reveal the toilet. The other half was full of DVDs, which when slid to the left would reveal the bathroom/shower. Both shelves move along hidden roller tracks, top and bottom, so the f aux doors could roll away with ease even when packed full.

Spike rigged the house with motion sensors. The intelligent and green dwelling knew when a room was uninhabited and would automatically turn off the lights and shut down any appliances not required. They both love listening to music so volume stayed constant throughout the house, the speakers were genuinely surround sound. For additional green factor, solar panels were installed on the roof top as a secondary source of electricity.

To take advantage of the ravine lot, an alfresco area was built at the back to where they could enjoy the breeze and the morning sun.

At the back of the garden was an old beach cabana bought from a second-hand dealer. The interior was the size of a single garage, it housed both Spike's home office and workshop. Spike had the ground underneath it excavated to make way for a room larger than the average master bedroom. It also has an en suite so he could work endless hours without having to troop back to the main house to do his business.

It was very deceiving. No one knew of the home office because the cabana was painted in _trompe-l'oeil_ of a Roman grotto which, surrounded by a lush garden and bush land, appeared just part of the landscape. The eye-deceiving _art _was done by a visiting Italian artisan, a family friend and cousin five times removed. But still a cousin.

A small box concealed an entry code pad but one had to to look very, very hard for it. The small box was effectively well-hidden within the painted _trompe-l'oeil._ To locate it would be like playing "_Where's Wally_?"

On entry, the shed revealed a well establish workshop. Bam Bam, a mini Babycakes, his cool invention stood sentinel in a corner and programmed to whine loudly if someone gained illegal entry. He punched in a code to enter and another once inside to disable the security system.

He was scheduled to be on graveyard shift tomorrow so he decided to work on the code and sleep-in the day. His workshop has a table clear of tools and clutter, not so much because he was a neat freak but because it was the "door" to the lower ground where his office was. His CSIS-issued super computer has been re-housed here. He lifted the table top; two table legs doubled as the ladder between floors. Once he was safely down, the table top moved back into place as he pressed a button.

In designing the concealed space, he was careful to give consideration over light and air. A hidden ventilation system took care of fresh air, and as far as day light was concerned, four shafts were built into the sides of the cabana with the appearance of lamp posts; they were in actual fact light shafts.

With no windows and doors with which to escape to in case of fire or worse, an assault, it could become a death trap so the office was built with a circular escape hatch disguised as a shelf for his manuals and other reading paraphernalia. A passage way, built using sewer pipes, connected it to bush land beyond the boundary of the property about one and half metres away. The passageway was constructed without council approval. Audacious but necessary.

He was quietly working away on the musical score sheet when he heard shuffling noises above, he glanced at the camera to find his three beloved had invaded. He shook his head, _There goes time alone. _Winnie climbed down the ladder, but the canines simply jumped down and crash landed on the sofa bed, jarring the spring of the contraption. He chastised them, "Easy on the thing," not that they ever listened.

He got up and gave his wife a cuddle, stroked her hair and whispered, "What are you doing here? Go back to bed."

"Can I sleep here?" She knew he'd be up all night, cracking the code.

"I need the light and you can't sleep with lights on."

"I've got a boring book, it'll put me to sleep."

He didn't argue. She could be very head strong so it'd just be a waste of time. Liley and Moppet laid on the floor on either side of him as he worked.

Working methodically, the first thing he did was transfer the musical notes from the score sheet to his MAC notebook. He wasn't a virtuoso; though he hugely appreciate music he was not that way inclined. In fact, he was so bad at it that his primary piano teacher, Sister Josefa, numbered the white keys from one to 52, seeing that he loved mathematics. She just didn't get it though. Remembering the notes wasn't the problem for Spike, it was the mastery of the timing and the other bits that was the problem, like tempo and texture and timbre. The poor nun gave up after three months, advising his parents that the boy would have a better future with a calculator and an abacus.

He next downloaded a software that allowed the computer to play back the music to him, he plugged an earphone to listen to it. It wasn't crash hot, _Definitely not going to be a hit. _He wasn't a musical officionado but he knew good musical composition when he hears it, this wasn't one of those.

Then taking the next step, he searched for a software that would allow him to play the music using his computer keyboard, he found a whole stack of them available for free online. Once downloaded, he played the music note by note using his keyboard and save it in the MIDI file format. Since every key on the computer keyboard corresponded to the keys of a piano he got this message.

MICHAEL PIPER HAD HIM KILLED: HAVE EVIDENCE: LETs MEET: CALL THIS NUM. She gave a string of nine digits and signed off with BELLE.

He jumped up, "Gotcha!" Spike didn't realised how loudly he exclaimed but his expression of elation woke all three sleeping members of his family. Winnie rubbed the sleep from her eyes and said, "You got it?"

He smiled. She jumped out of bed and hugged her a-dork-able husband happily. They should have let laying dogs lay but instead... they opened the musical equivalent of Pandora's Box.


	4. Her Middle Name is Fearless

_Author's Note: Bryce "Wolf " Cameron first appeared in the stories "Hell Hath No Fury" and "The Wolf" in that order. For back stories, please read them._

**Her Middle Name is Fearless **

The excitement over the cracked code had to die down eventually. Spike showered, brushed his teeth and changed into his PJ all from the comfort of his home office. He turned everything off except for one side lamp, the soft light giving off a romantic glow in the room. Three in the morning when the Scarlattis finally turned in, sleeping on the sofa bed. Liley and Moppet slept on the floor but only because they had to. They did dare join their parents but Dad said he'd kill them himself if they tried again... to Winnie's hilarity.

Spike, tired and brain fried, was out snappily. But Winne's sleep pattern had been interrupted twice in one night and was now having difficulty finding Mr Forty Winks. Not even Spike's steady and rhythmic breathing could help. Now, it's her turn to be preoccupied with what to do with the information she has.

_I need to research. _All she has to do was get up without waking him, well, it's not that easy. In bed, they always sleep spoon together. His face nozzled on the small of her back, his left arm draped across her belly and his left leg intertwined with her legs. In the beginning, she found it hard to sleep having dead weights on top of her; she was quite surprised to discover how heavy muscular arm and leg were when relaxed. Now, she wouldn't have it any other way.

She waited until he was on REM sleep before making her move, sliding out of his arm and leg and replacing herself with two pillows. Sensitive to movements, the canines were alert to her getting up, she ssssh'd them and pointed to Spike's sleeping form.

Liley and Moppet wanted to be let out, cooped up in a semi-darkened room was now making them feel claustrophobic. Winnie groaned silently and shook her pretty head side to side, "No." Letting them out meant opening the hatch, opening the hatch meant a sudden drop in the ambient temperature of the room as wind draft flowed through and that meant waking up the king of the castle. "No." Liley walked to the computer desk, aware that Mom was going to work and she wanted to keep her company. Moppet, on the other hand, the cheeky little bugger, laid flat on the ground and covered her eyes with her paw. Winnie rolled her eyes. Moppet and Spike though had a secret, it was Dad who taught her that dramatic gesture.

Nevertheless, the acting didn't work. Winnie ignored her and moved towards Spike's personal computer and then realised she didn't know the password. The CSIS-issued computer however was always left on, she wondered whether **it** knew she wasn't its master. _Don't be ridiculous, Winnie. Of course not. _She took a deep breathe, steeled herself and whispered, "Only one way to find out." She pressed the space bar and the bloody thing spoke, "Password please." _At least it's polite. _

She stood rooted to the floor for a moment, crossed her arms together and thought, S_o __**it**__ logs itself off automatically._

_Funny, I've never really looked around here. _She walked slowly around the room, inspecting it with fresh eyes. The computer desk took up the length of the eastern wall. Mounted camera to the right, printer and scanner to the left. Office materials arranged neatly in a caddy basket.

She turned clock-wise to check out the south side. It was decorated by a framed blown up picture of the four of them in black and white. A poignant photograph taken by Raf Rousseau, a former colleague at SRU and close friend; he gave it to them on their first wedding anniversary. They had their backs to the camera, watching the sun set over Bluffer's Park. She was leaning on his arm, a hand on Liley's head. Spike had his arm around her, and a hand on Moppet. Intrigued by Raf's composition and lighting, she removed it from the wall to scrutinise it closer, as she did so, a safe was revealed. _Oh dear, better put it back._ She quickly glanced at Spike to check he was still sleeping.

A few feet next to it was the concealed hatch. Above the circular shelf of reading materials was another mounted shelf, she tip-toed and saw boxes and boxes of Legos and Meccano. Being a mere mortal, she never quite understood a man who relaxes his brain playing with children's toy but she smiled at the prospect of their future kids enjoying a day with Dad. There was a chess set, a set of Chinese checkers and Scrabble.

The west wall was taken up by the sofa bed and the north wall had but one cabinet with a sliding door. She tried it. To her surprised, it was not locked. Her old laptop was there. _**Thank God. **_ She took it out and breathe a sigh of relief. Spike gave her a new one two years ago as a birthday present, she assumed he had disposed of her old one but he's been keeping it safe all these time. The other stuff in the cabinet were his citations, medals, certificates and family albums. She was tempted to go through them again but she has work to do, _Going down memory lane can wait_.

Winnie fired up the laptop and it was even better than when she had it last. It booted up quickly and the wi-fi functionality was in working order if she had to go by the green light indicator. _ I need to know who the players are. _She read the message again.

She searched for information on Thomas Andrews-Bergen. Multiple hits came up. She sped read as many as she found to be relevant to the investigation and wondered why Det Curtis hadn't done the same, _Well maybe he has. He doesn't report to you, Mrs Scarlatti_. She smiled at her very presumptious thought. She reprimanded herself, _Bossy boots! _She bookmarked the pages she needed to print out later.

Next, she searched for Michael Piper. It was one hell of an interesting read. Millionaire scammer, con artist, embezzler, racketeer, and now murderer? According to several news reports, the guy has outstanding arrest warrants in **SEVEN** U.S. States. Could he be in Toronto? In South America perhaps? Where sadly for the good people of that continent criminals tend flee to.

_Are the news reports accurate? Embellished? Planted? I need to find official sources_. She borrowed paper and pen from Spike's caddy and listed down the seven states where arrest warrants had been issued, she would contact the detectives in charge. She caught herself, _I'd refer them to Det Curtis so he can contact them_. She had to remind herself she was a forensic lab technician, not a detective. Doing _this _was in fact decidely outside of her purview.

Was he the shooter? She read the message again: _Michael Piper had him killed_. She concluded, _Definitely not. He ordered the hit, though_.

_**Belle, who is Belle?**_

Without a last name it would be impossible to do narrow down the search and of course, when she did attempt knowing it would fail, thousands of hits came up. All of them about _Beauty and the Beast_.

She was too focused on her searches... _I'm probably late for work_. Without direct sunlight, she didn't realised how late it was. She checked her time piece, 0900. _Already! _ Hardly believing it, she glanced up to double check with Spike's wall clock. _Clocks! _There were 10 of them all showing different time zones for 10 significant cities. And the clocks were not labelled. _How inconsiderate!_

_S_he grabbed her laptop, crawled on the bed to kiss her beautiful husband good-bye, on the lips; and let the dogs out via the hatch. There was no way she'd let them climb up the fireman's ladder; the possibility they'd slipped and fall didn't bear thinking about. The canines knew the way out to the bush and the way back home. Out the sewer pipe, up the covered hole and back through the back gate.

When she reached her bedroom, her phone was going ballistic. "Hello," she answered breathlessly having ran the length of the hallway and over extending to reach for her phone.

"Hello Bonita, breathless in the morning. Must have been good sex!" It was Tia Cora. She involuntarily blushed, "Tia Cora, nothing like that, I was running to get to the phone, that's all. Why are you calling?"

"Just checking, Bonita. You're never late and now you're one hour late so maybe I thought something happened to you."

"Thanks, that's so sweet. I'll be there in thirty minutes." She showered, brushed her teeth, dressed, fed the dogs in record time. In her rush, she forgot to put on even the rudimentary make-up. _Never mind, it's probably for the best_. She tied her hair in a pig-tail and be let it be damned.

She went back inside to get her laptop. _The message! What did I do with it? _ She searched and found it had been blown away several feet from the laptop by wind draft. She couldn't risk the same thing happening. Late or not, she transferred Belle's contact number under Gynecologist. Just to be safe.

The traffic was frustratingly heavy. _Just when you're in a hurry_. She turned on the radio to listen to her favourite music station. Something dawned on her, _the channel was changed!_ Goosebumps covered her arms and the hair on her back stood. She quickly glanced behind her to make sure she had no unwanted passenger. Spike never failed to lecture her that but she was too laxed about it; not anymore she determined to herself. She could hear him saying, like a broken record, "Before getting into your car, glance at the backseat."

She debated with herself if she should tell him. It was on her favourite music station when she arrived home. If the channel was changed, someone must have followed her home. Did she bring trouble home? Is her family safe? _I better tell him._

Winnie dialled Spike's number, he answered sleepily but woke up instantly the second she finished explaining what had happened. His first thought was a crazed fan has started stalking his wife. "Would you like me to come get you?"

"No, Angel boy. Just letting you know. I can take care of myself."

"You're wearing the bracelet?"

"I am. I love you."

"Love you, too. But if I find out someone's been inside our house, I'll come get up and lock you up. I'm not taking any chances." She laughed at his over protectiveness, "Nothing will happen," she said.

The forensic investigator in her rose to the fore. If she was being stalked, the channel she/he turned the radio to may give a clue to the sort of person she was dealing with. It was a talk back radio show. She never listened to talk shows but this morning, stuck in traffic, she listened to all the crazies phoning in. Then someone... came on the air.

Radio Host: This is George Negus in the Morning. Can I get your name?

Caller: Valentino

Radio Host: Is that your real name, Valentino?

Caller: Sure is.

Radio Host: What do you have in mind, Val en ti no? (A hint of mockery in the way he said the caller's name.)

Caller: I just to say to the girl in white bikini that she's doesn't have to be shy. (_**Oh my God**_.)

Radio Host: The girl in the white bikini. You mean Miss Winnie Camden of the Toronto Crime Lab? (The radio host replied in disbelief)

Caller: Yes, she's shy around me. Everytime she walks pass me, she doesn't look me in the eyes.

Radio Host: Maybe she doesn't noticed you. Have you thought of that?

Caller: Oh, she does. I know. I can feel her energy. (Her first instinct was to turn the radio off but she refused to give in to the urge. She coached herself, _Take control of the situation, the more you know... the safer you'll be_).

Radio Host: Why don't we ask what our listeners think of that? (The host disconnected the caller and another call dropped in. For the next half hour, they mocked Val en ti no.)

_I can't call Spike. It would freak him out and he'd be all Guardian Angel on me._ But she didn't have to call him, he called her. "Miss Sunshine, someone's been in our house."

"Oh my God."

"I'm just glad you and the girls joined me last night. I left you sleeping on the couch, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if something happened to you."

"How did he get in?"

"Via the backdoor. He didn't enter any of the rooms. But he helped himself to fruit which I know you don't have in the morning and neither of us had last night. And he left a rose on the kitchen bench with a note, "Sorry I missed you. Valentino." She gasped.

"What's wrong? Do you know him?"

"No, but he called the talk back radio station... the channel..." He didn't let her finish, "I'm on it. I love you. Are you close to the lab yet?"

"Yeah, I'm pulling into the parking bay."

"Park as close to the entrance as possible or out on the street. Don't park where no one can see you come and go. I'll get protective detail for you."

"No...Mic..."

"Don't you dare Michaelangelo me," he said firmly, his tone angry. "Until I get my hands on this Valenino, you stay put and stay close to your protective detail."

"Ok, I'm here... I love you."

"Love you, too." He hanged up and breathe a sigh of relief, _At least she knows not to push the boundary._

Spike called the one good man he knew was in town and available. Bryce "Wolf" Cameron. Australian SAS. 6'0. 98 kgs of pure muscle and black operative. He sped dialled Wolf's number, the elite soldier answered at once, "Hey, mate, how are ya?"

"Good mate. Sorry to interrupt your holiday... I need help."

"That's good, it's a beautiful city mate but crikey I'm bored to death," he said with a laugh. "What can I do for you?"

Spike briefed him... but was interrupted by an incessant beeping from his other phone. His business phone, he checked the screen, Crime Lab. "Hold on,. Bryce. I need to get this."

It was Tia Cora, "Constable Scarlatti, where is Winnie?"

"You have got to be kiddding me."

"She said she'll be here in half an hour, it's been nearly an hour."

He tried to think. Tried not to panic. If Winnie parked on the street, she should be in the lab right about now. Maybe there's just a delay. "Tia Cora, call me again in two minutes. **TWO MINUTES**."

He turned his attention to Bryce, "Mate, I gotta go."

The wolf stared at the phone. His instincts told him the shit had hit the fan!


	5. Strictly Forbidden

**Strictly Forbidden**

Heart racing, Spike ran to his home office to check for recorded images from last night. He rigged top class camera in the front and back of his home so he was confident there should be recordings stored in the hard drive of his super computer. He wasn't disappointed! Since the cameras were well concealed, the intruder didn't attempt to disguised his features so he had every angles covered, from the intruder's side profile to his backside.

Exactly two minutes later, his phone rang again, he answered it quickly. Relieved to hear Tia Cora sounding upbeat, "Sorry to trouble you Constable Scarlatti, Winnie just walked in."

In a friendly tone, he replied, "Spike, please call me Spike." It earned a smile from the receptionist. "May I speak with Winnie?"

"Sure, hold on, Spike." Tia Cora motioned for the forensic tech to come over as she was walking down the hall way and mouthed, "Husband."

Win's eyes widened, she slowly took the phone and covered the earpiece, "Did you get me into trouble?" she asked with a smile. The Spanish woman grimaced, "Sorry, I called him two minutes ago asking where you were. I think I caused a bit of panic."

"It's alright", she replied with a wink. She placed her left elbow on the desk and leaned on her hand to get a bit of privacy. People were sort of deliberately walking slowly passed her to get a closer look; she felt very exposed standing in the foyer speaking to her husband.

She started, "Hi Angel boy," but didn't get very far.

Spike interjected with "I'm so glad you're ok." She shook her head at her very protective husband. "I'm working night shift so you and the girls are sleeping in the office tonight. Bryce is coming to house-sit."

"Bryce?" She asked unable to place where and when she heard the name.

"Billy's brother."

"Oh yeah, the SAS."

"Yup, he's here on holiday staying in a hotel. He wouldn't mind house-sitting. I'm getting builders in today to change the backdoor. Liley and Moppet won't be able to come and go when we're out but don't worry...I'll get a doggie house built for them to shelter in and... before you protest... it'll be cosy." She couldn't get a word in. Her husband has the tendency to speak a hundred miles per minute especially when things were not as they should be.

Spike completed downloading photos of the intruder into his PDA, "Win, sending you a picture of the guy who broke into our house. Take note of the face and be alert for him, anytime you see someone like him, I want you to with call me or call the police, ok?"

"Of course," she said. He also sent a copy to Bryce and another to RCMP Cybercrime Unit along with a request to find out whether the subject had priors or currently wanted. His gaze fell on a piece of paper Winnie was working on in the wee hours of the morning, on it was a list of police departments she wanted to liase with in the U.S.

"Guivenere," he said in a tone that suggested trouble was afoot. Hearing him say her full name, she instantly felt as if she was getting hers back. "What do you think you're up to?"

"I'm not up to anything" she said sounding defensive although she didn't know why she was feeling defensive at all.

"Don't lie to me Guinevere Camden Scarlatti. I'm staring at your notes." _Oh no!_ _Busted._

"You're a forensic technician, not a detective. It' s none of your business. Pass on the ciphered message to Det Curtis and stay out of it. You're in big enough trouble as it is. Do you understand?"

"Spike..." and again he cut her off.

"What did I just say? What was it about my tone that even remotely suggest to you this is open for discussion? Give it to the detectives and stay in the lab." But even as he said it he because conscious he should ease off a bit because Mrs Scarlatti has the habit of disobeying when she felt strongly about something.

He exhaled. "I love you," he said, softly and full of emotion. "I love you, too." Overhearing her, Tia Cora gave her the cute lash-batting eyes that made her laugh.

"Angel boy, I'm very late. I gotta go. Will I see you today?" she said sounding a little anxious.

"You will, if you come straight home from work... I don't start till 10ish. Better yet, I'll come get you."

"I'd like that," she said sincerely.

Win replaced the phone back on its cradle and stared at it for a second or two. Spike was right, it was none of her business but as a woman she knew Belle reached out to her for a reason. She needed someone she could trust. If she has evidence of who ordered the fatal hit on a victim and why, then her life was in jeopardy. _She's running scared._ _All the more reason I should also reach out_.

She sighed and went to the ladies. She scrolled down the phone contact list until she got to G, without thinking about it any further she called the number Belle gave her. It rang once and was answered by a very feminine, soft-spoken voice, "Hello, Winnie". It was very hard to hear Belle, she sounded distant. Add to the fact that Winnie was in the lavatory where for some reason three cubicles flushed at once. "Hi Belle, yes, it's Winnie"

Belle was relieved, "You decoded my message quickly."

"Not me, my husband," she said although it would be nice to claim the glory.

"Oh yeah, Constable Scarlatti...we mustn't talk on the phone. Can I meet you tomorrow morning, at the Queen Train Station around nine?"

"Sure. But why not today if it's so urgent..."

"I can't... I haven't stayed in one place for more than two nights. I've been travelling and sleeping on long haul trains and buses. I get into Queen's station at nine tomorrow morning," she said, tiredness evident in her voice.

"Ok, I'll be there. How would I recognise you?"

"You won't but I'll recognise you. See you tomorrow. If I hit an obstacle I'll let you know... somehow."

"Take care" was Winnie's parting words.

Meantime, Spike called Bryce and invited him to dinner at their place with a request thrown in to house-sit; on offer was a choice of three bedrooms to pick from. The Aussie SAS laughingly accepted the invite and said, "Not easy being married, eh?"

"You said it... but I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I hear you brother." Spike gave Bryce the address and the Aussie assured him he'll find his own way.

Det Curtis came by the lab to check on the lab techs' progress. Thomas' clothes were being analysed for clues at Trace. He needed to know where the victim had been two days before he was fatally shot. The last time he was seen by his work colleagues was Friday, six pm. Everyone had clocked out of the building to enjoy a relaxing drink or a night-out. Only Thomas stayed back. No one saw him Saturday and Sunday morning, at 11am he was dead.

All anyone could say for sure was "he was on to something." For the last two months, he and his team of five CPAs have been hard at work at the head office of the mining giant, Rio Diaz Mining Corp, a subsidiary of an even bigger mining conglomerate. As forensic accountants, they worked at the client's HQ and only turn up at "Precise Corp Accounts" Toronto office on Friday nights to debrief and consolidate their findings.

Det Anton Curtis, a veteran of some 10 years at Homicide Division was already at the end of his tether after four days of investigation that seemed to go nowhere but the Cold Case cabinet. He caught up with Winnie who was in charge of Firearms and Toolmarks Identification, "Anything else you can give me?"

"What?" she smirked, "You wanna know if someone threw out a $20,000 firearm in the tip?"

The detective nodded, "Yeah, that would be telling us something. But shit. The shooter used a M14 rifle. That shouldn't be too hard... surely, there's not many of these floating around. The US Government didn't give it away for Christmas present."

"I've reached out to Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, better known by their acronym ATF, hopefully they can help us. Without a serial number, they told me it's a long-shot. According to my source, it takes an average of 11.4 days to trace a firearm to the first retail purchaser. The search could be reduced to five days **if** the purchase was made through a licensed firearms dealer and provided the dealer kept the Form 4473 for 20 years. And provided the dealer also recorded all information from the Form 4473 into his bound-book. By U.S. Legislation, a dealer must keep this log the entire time he is in business and is required to surrender the log to the ATF upon retirement from the firearms business. But, this is the big **BUT** Anton, participation is voluntary."

The detective's jaw dropped to the floor, "What's the point of it then?"

Winnie shrugged, "You have to admit, we have some crazy rules around here, too. And what are the chances that a 1970s firearm would be registered?" The detective chewed his gum so hard he was sure he was making his dentist very happy.

Now it was Winnie's turn to inquire, "What about trace? Have they come up with something?"

"Nothing. All they found was fluff and more fluff from high-priced cushions from both offices. It looks like Thomas lived and breathed his work. He didn't seem to have gone anywhere to meet up with anyone. We've been through his phone logs, as far as we can ascertain, all calls were between the two offices or his home. There was a voicemail message from an unlisted number. All it said was 'I can deliver it.' For all we know he was ordering Chinese take-away."

"The voice message? Was that from a woman?" Winnie asked in a sort of 'I'm just curious' way.

"Yeah. Soft-spoken woman. I'm guessing around 20, can't be much older than 25." It felt like Det Curtis was describing Belle. She should have said something but something stopped her. Truthfully, she wanted to know more and she really believed that Belle singled her out for a reason. Someone she trusted was already dead, perhaps she didn't want to get anyone killed so she reached out to an unlikely sort.

Spike was still at home, the rest of the day was taken up with more building work. At the end of it, Liley and Moppet found themselves proud owners of a doggie mansion. It goes without saying that the canines promptly snubbed it. Spike laid on the guilt trip, "Children in Third World countries don't even get to live in such a well-constructed doggie house." Moppet laid on the ground and covered his eyes. _I'm really getting mine back today,_ he said as he ran his fingers through his hair.

**Six pm **Spike decided he and the builders had done enough to get his family secure. RCMP Cybercrime Unit hit a blank on the intruder. _ At least the guy has no priors. _ What he didn't know was the guy had several just not in Canada, an interpol search would have yielded result but he had no reason to think that way.

He booked a cab to take him to Winnie who was delighted to find him waiting at the foyer half past the hour. They kissed to the amusement of Winnie's co-worker. Her Boss, came out in time to witness the PDA, "I've been warned about your tendency to exhibit indecency," she said jokingly.

"Hey Boss... my husband, Spike." Then turning to her husband, "Spike, my Boss, Imogen Suzuki." The two shook hands and proceeded to talked about Winnie as if she wasn't there. She listened bemusedly, and said, "I'm here you know, guys."

It was **Seven pm** by the time they left the crime lab, with little time left to spare, they ordered take-outs for dinner and arrived home just in time. Bryce Cameron, AKA Wolf, arrived in a handsome red and black Honda power motorcycle as they were parking Winnie's car inside the garage. Spike ruled she could no longer leave her car on the street. She was starting to wonder if perhaps soon she wouldn't be allowed to wear anything else but a nun's habit.

Dinner was excellent; the company relaxed and the atmosphere happy and full of laughter. Liley and Moppet were delighted to have someone other than Winnie and Spike for company and play. A natural with dogs, Bryce became the canines' instant BFF.

**Ten pm** soon came, Spike excused himself to get ready for work, and so did Winnie who said she'd have to get up early tomorrow. The guest was more than happy to be left alone for some peace and quiet, "If you guys don't mind, I'd much rather crash on the living room."

"I'm afraid you're a little too tall for the couch," observed Winnie.

"Oh, I actually sleep on the floor... force of habit." They bade each other good-night. Winnie retiring to the home office with her laptop accompanied by two sharp fanged, well-trained protectors.

**Two am** Bryce felt a presence outside, someone tried the doorknob. The rattling woke up the Wolf who was instantly alert. He sensed rather than saw the intruder peeking into the house through the louvered windows. Although he didn't own the house, he felt violated. No one should be able to do such a thing with impunity.

The Wolf's senses sharpened considerably. He commando crawled to the front-door, opened it gingerly. He closed the door noiselessly, barefoot, he circled around to find the man removing the slats from the window, _That's another thing Spike has to fix._

Before the stalker could remove the second slat, Bryce reached out and grabbed the back of his collar, yanked him out of the bushes. The SAS threw the guy on the ground, expecting that the sudden assault would cause him to flee for his life but exactly the opposite happened. The man rolled off the ground and was instantly on his feet, agile and quick.

Bryce reassessed the opponent, he wasn't a stalker, or if he was he wasn't _just _any weirdo. The man's combat stance was familiar – KRAV MAGA. Few people were proficient in the Israeli Defense Force martial art of choice. He fought with a few of them and every time he came out second best. He hoped this time, for the sake of his friends, he would come up on top.

The Wolf immediately counter-attacked, the key to effective self-defense was to NOT be on the defensive. His aim was to neutralise the opponent quickly and without mercy. In the first instance, he aimed for, and hit the man's face with an open palm, his solar plexus with his clenched fist and his groin with his knees. The noise they emitted with each hit and parry woke the neighbours on both sides.

Winnie heard the commotion and watched on the camera with horror, she immediately called SRU to report in.

The fight spilt over to the garden. In the process of combat Bryce felt the man's calloused hands. The callouses on his right ring finger suggested he was pulling triggers. Bryce singular thought was to incapacitate the firing arm.

He had a grip of the man's right arm and was about to snap it in two when with his free hand the stalker hit Bryce's throat causing the SAS Man to gag and writhe in pain in the ground. The stalker took his chance to get away as lights on the neighbours' porches came to life and Liley and Moppet bounded out from nowhere. The canines gave chase and in the dark, all they heard was the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.

Winnie screamed, "Liley! Moppet!," Bryce caught her around the waist as she tried to ran after her babies. "Noooo!"

SRU Team One arrived a second too late...


	6. Grievous Emotional Harm

_Author's Note: Liley Lewis Scarlatti and Moppet Bridget Scarlatti came into being in the story "A Pleasant Surprise" They have been in every story ever since,with the exception of "The Love Offensive."_

_Ed Lane became a Sargent in the story "The Long shadow..." at the same time Sgt Parker was promoted to head the City's premier counter-terrorism unit called START._

_Please tissue alert!_

**Grievous Emotional Harm**

Bryce tightened his hold on Winnie and tackled her to the ground, "Win, if you rushed out there, they'd mistake you for the intruder and they might shoot you." She heard him but she wasn't listening. She struggled to get up but the Wolf's stranglehold on her was iron-clad.

Split seconds later, Team One of the elite Toronto police squad has breached the perimeter. Constable Leah Kearns voice rang loud from the side of the house, "Clear."

Constable Sam Braddock was in the garage, "Clear."

Constable Jules Callaghan entered through the main door with Spike, they split between the private and social zones of the house, both declared it safe, "Clear."

Team Leader and Sargent Ed Lane waited by the dying, gasping form of Liley as Moppet snarled at him. The three-legged golden retriever was not letting anyone come near the Canadian Eskimo dog, her own eternal playmate, friend and sister. She would only permit Mom and Dad to be near Liley.

As the team converged in the garden, the Wolf maintained his grip on Winnie til he could shout into the dead of a moonless wee hours of the morning, "Friendly." He waited to be acknowledged before raising slowly with two hands in the air. Winnie bolted out of the ground in that instant, rushing to where her babies were, "Liley! Moppet!"

Moppet barked to let her know exactly where they were. Following the sound of her barking, Winnie slowed to a walk, her heart pounding, her brain frantic, unsure what she'll find. She had a grim thought, _Why is_ _Liley's not howling?_ She got to them at the same time as Spike.

Using only his expressive blue eyes, Ed told his Team to give the couple privacy and to leave them to grieve.

The couple dropped on their knees to cradle the canines. Win stroked Liley's head gently, afraid she might cause her pain, "Let me see," she whispered to her. The bullet from a small caliber handgun entered her chest. With tear strained eyes, she looked at her grieving husband; she already knew the answer but she had to ask him anyway, "Angel boy, can't we take her to the Vet?" The veteran elite police, shook his head, "No... it's best we take this time to say 'good-bye'."

"Liley, I'm so sorry..."

When it was Spike's turn, he soothe her; told the loyal four year old Canadian Eskimo dog as she gazed up at him with trusting eyes, "Everything's gonna be ok. I promise to look after Mommy and Moppet. I promise." The soft gaze faded into lifelessness. Winnie wailed crying her heart out.

Peace in suburbia was shattered that humid, storm-a-brewin' day.

Moppet, poor Moppet was extremely distressed. She smelled death, grief, anxiety and a surge of adrenaline in the air. What with the hormones the humans were emitting from every pores of their bodies! Not to mention the smell of cordite in the air. She was behind Spike walking around in an ever tightening circles. If she could talk, she'd be saying, "Daddy, I hurt. Daddy."

Spike turned around to see what she was doing, "Moppet." She stopped upon hearing her name, she hobbled over. Father and daughter looked at each other eyes-to-eyes, stroking her head, Spike said, "Everything is gonna be ok," now if only he could believe it himself.

Winnie cradled Liley's lifeless body.

Twice in one week, she found herself covered in blood. All cried out, she was now hiccuping. Her husband moved next to her to put an arm around her, she leaned in for comfort, drawing strength from him. Right now, he just had to produce a double portion for the two of them. No, three... for the three of them.

"I shouldn't have let them out. I'm so sorry," she was weeping again. A cry that came from within the belly of her soul. "I shouldn't have let them out."

Spike commanded Moppet to sit next to her with his free hand, with the other he wiped Win's tears and said, "You couldn't have known he had a gun. It's not your fault." He knew from experience Winnie would be in an emotional vortex for a long while yet, no amount of reason would make it easier or better. That pain, that agonising pain... only time and love could heal it.

At the front of the house, Bryce became reacquainted with Team One. He met them once through his little sister Billy, former SRU Raf Rousseau's girlfriend; he introduced himself to Leah, the only one he hadn't met.

"How's Baf?" inquired Callaghan.

"Enjoying the Queensland outback."

They talked quietly about Billy and Raf's Australian adventure while they waited for the detectives from RCMP turn up so Bryce could give a statement. A far more boisterous banter would have to wait til later in respect of what just happened to Spike and Winnie's family.

Aware that Team One was waiting for him, Spike kissed the top of Moppet's head, then Winnie, "Be right back." He got up to join them. They were sympathetic and sad for the family. They knew Liley, she used to come to HQ when she was a pup, always gentle and always protective of Winnie.

Sgt Lane told Spike he could take a leave of absence from today, "Look after the family... there are arrangements to be made. We gotta go, please give our love to Winnie." The SRU Tech Whiz nodded and accepted hugs on behalf of his wife, "See you soon," he said.

Team One mopped up the operation, but before they sped off, Sgt Lane had one parting shot, "Call... anytime if you need anything." Spike nodded his appreciation.

**Four am, **Team One was driving off when a couple of RCMP detectives arrived, one of them, Anton Curtis. Spike and Bryce met them, the former determined to delay the Detective questioning Winnie for as long as possible, and the latter was prepared to give expert testimony as a key witness.

Detective Curtis was impressed with the detailed blow-by-blow account given by Bryce. He gave such an accurate description of the intruder he couldn't be sure the Aussie didn't know the culprit personally. "What are you? A cop?"

The SAS Man humoured him and said, "A wannabe" then quickly changed his mind. Sooner or later, RCMP would know who he was anyway. "Soldier," he said. "ADF, Australian Defense Force."

"Ah, that explains the funny accent," they both laughed at that. It was perhaps the only light-hearted comment that day.

Winnie wanted the bullet slug that killed Liley and requested for an autopsy, the coroner arrived to examine the victim and was surprised to find out that Liley Lewis Scarlatti was a "dog."

"She's not just a dog," Winnie said in a whisper.

The long-suffering coroner, who had worked with Winnie on previous cases said, "I meant no offense, I just thought..."

She have him a tight reassuring smile, "Ben, none taken, I'm merely saying..." then the flood gate of tears opened again, ".. she's more than a dog to us."

Dr Ben Kim, now in his mid-50s, had seen many awful deaths, none of them pretty but still not beyond caring, "I have a dog, too. He's 12 now... getting on. I'd be devastated if something happens to him." The two professionals worked together quickly to get Liley to the morgue.

"What's happening?" Spike inquired. Winnie explained she wanted an autopsy, "It'll be quick. I'll bring her back home today. Could you stay home with Moppet, please?"

"I'm not going anywhere... I'm sure you shouldn't..." She hugged him and spoke to his chest, "It's ok. We can't let him win. I have to go." She knelt down to give attention to her surviving daughter, "I promise, we will find who did this." Moppet seemed to understand. They kissed nose-to-nose like always. Spike didn't try to stop her, he knew it would be futile.

**Five am,** "I better go shower and change," she asked Spike to tell Dr Kim to give her 10 minutes. As he did so, Bryce signaled with his eyes to Spike, and got ready himself. He, too, quickly showered and changed. Nine hundred seconds later, Winnie was on board with Ben on the way to the morgue. Unbeknown to her, discreetly following was the Wolf – true to his nature, a loyal and faithful friend and an Apex Predator.

Spike locked up the house and holed himself in the home office with Moppet, he reviewed the tape recordings. It wasn't Valentino. He watched the fight scene with growing dread. _Whoever that was_, was on a mission to kill his wife. Had it not been for the security arrangement they made last night, he could have been mourning three members of his family... _But why?_

The man on the tape fought an elite soldier toe-to-toe. The man on the tape was no ordinary hired killer. _Could he be the sniper, too? Was it possible Winnie and Liley and Moppet saw him that day on the beach but just hadn't realise it? Moppet was behaving bizarrely, was it possible she had smelt his scent before? _The man on the tape was acting out of desperation, he could see it in his body language, and it wasn't just because he had been challenged by a shirtless hairy Wolf.

Tonight, when they get the chance, he and Bryce would compare notes. The Southern Wolf has another week left before returning to Garrison/_**HQ**_, Campbell Barracks, Swanbourne, Western _Australia. _

**Six thirty am**_, _Dr Kim scrubbed and prepped Liley for the procedure. Winnie watched even when she could barely contain her grief. But as much as it hurt her she wanted to be with her baby. She wouldn't, couldn't, have it any other way. She focused on the coroner's expert hands, delicate and caring. When the slug was removed she felt a thorn in her heart, as if someone hammered it in there. Dr Kim put it in an evidence bag and handed it to the very capable Firearms and Tool Identification Specialist, "Thank you," she said. "I appreciate you coming to do this. It's not as if he haven't much else to do," her eyes scanned the room where two more bodies were waiting to be attended to.

"Like you said... she wasn't just a dog..."

She apologised for the water works. "I'm not always weepy," she said.

"I know," he said, "You're made of tough stuff. Now, go home."

At the mention of home, Winnie remembered her date with Belle. She left her phone at home, calling Spike to ask for the number of her "Gynecologist" from her contact list would either raise a red flag or make her very inquisitive husband curious. How would she explain why she needed her Gynecologist's number? And what would she say if he asked, _Why isn't the Gynecologist number listed online or on the Yellow Pages?_ It couldn't bear thinking lying to him outright but she was committed to helping Belle.

**Eight am**, Winnie left the building and hailed a passing Taxi. The Wolf followed four cars back in the midst of a teeming Toronto peak hour traffic. He expected she was going home but the Cab was going in another direction, _What are you up to, Winnie? _It didn't make sense to him at all.

Winnie reached Queen's station within twenty minutes and hurried to the concourse, she didn't even know where to wait. Belle might have sent her a text message as to where but with no way to retrieve that message she would just have to put herself in full view of everybody. Unless Belle was blind there was no way anyone looking for her could missed her. She stood motionless between the newsagent and the cafe and prayed all this drama wasn't for nothing.

Bryce didn't know what to think but he was suddenly aware of two men. One he knew from a photograph in his cell phone and another he encountered last night. _Fuck me._

He was SAS... but he was still made of flesh and blood and he couldn't be at two places at once. _What the hell!_

**Nine am, **someone made a move...


	7. Cutting it Fine

_Author's Note: I've never been to Toronto. Never even been to Queen's train station in my dreams. The lay-out of the concourse as described herein was inspired from my very own Central train station in Sydney, Australia. Hope you can come visit one day._

**Cutting it Fine**

For a good twenty minutes since she arrived at Queen's train station, Winnie had been standing at one of the most visible places for all the walking masses to see. Bryce, on the other hand, stayed well hidden from sight, diagonally across from her. From the looks of it, the Wolf observed that she had no environmental awareness, all she kept doing was checking her wrist watch, _Clearly waiting for someone._

The SAS stood behind a book rack pretending to read Andy McNab's latest action adventure. He had the best vantage point. To his right he could see who were coming and going out of the platform; and to his left he could see the people coming in and out from the direction of the station's many entrances.

Belle's train was pulling into a stop. One by one, wearied humans filed out of the metal box, the brave young Miss waited till she was the last one in her rail car before she stood to leave. Meanwhile, up on the concourse, the Wolf pinged Valentino as he was fed his ticket through a ticketing machine to exit. He observed Mr Photo File's reaction to Winnie who looked stunned to see the object of his desires standing there and in his twisted fantasy appeared to believe she was waiting for him. He looked love struck. _Not good, not good at all_. Bryce was immediately on the alert when the stalker walked towards Winnie but who instead went inside a florist.

To his left, from the corner of his eyes, he saw last night's intruder, it was the unmistakable gait that gave it away. Everyone has a certain way about them, operatives were trained not to memorise faces because people could alter their appearance; sometimes a baseball cap would be all it'd take to look different. The trained eye watched for mannerisms, walk, body movements. Fact was, the latest development in biometric software matched body movements of known terrorists and suspects. This was activated in the world's busiest Airports to help combat terrorism, it has had a lot more success than the facial recognition software.

She was totally unaware she was sandwiched between bad and badder. Valentino came out of the florist holding a bouquet. On approach towards Mrs Scarlatti, Bryce sprung into action as Mr Krav Maga also made a move for Winnie. The SAS made a quick calculation, he reckoned between the two, the one on his left was more dangerous. But Valentino, for all he knew, may be holding a gun behind that stupid bunch of flowers. The quick-thinking Bryce Cameron snatched a hard bound book from the rack, tossed it at Valentino with the flick of his wrist, as if throwing a boomerang. The hard-bound tome flew in the air like a missile, hitting Valentino smack on the forehead. The sudden impact threw the love struck stalker backwards, hitting his head on the marble floor as he crashed landed, and then he was out for the count. Bryce barked a firm instruction, "Run, Winnie, Run."

"**To the station, inside. Go! Go! Go! Move! Fucking move it!**" People froze. Winnie snapped out of it and sprinted towards the inner belly of the station. She ran and never looked back.

Bryce leapt forward in a confrontational stance, facing Mr Krav Maga head on. A blinding flurry of karate chops, open palm slaps, flying kicks, and punches ensued between the two combatants. Within minutes, they were locked in a death grip, their hand on each other's throat, as they rolled around knocking everything down. Chairs, tables, book racks, displays went flying.

A bunch of curious commuters milled around watching the live action, some taking videos with their cameras. Another potential sensation for YouTube: more power to you Chen, Hurley and Karim. A group of teenagers on the way to high school stopped to cheer the fighting men. A young enterprising Asian kid took bets, "Who's for the man in white shirt (Bryce), and for the man in blue."

The 9-11 emergency hotline went hot!

Winnie, by sheer coincidence, found herself looking frantically around for another exit out of the station from where Belle was coming up the escalator from the platform. She heard her name, "Winnie... Winnie Scarlatti." She turned around to find a young lass with a baseball cap on, braided red hair down to her waist, workman's coverall, tatty sneakers and black backpack.

"Belle?" The freckled, flame-haired woman nodded. Winnie suddenly felt very protective. "Let's go, now." She grabbed her new acquaintance's wrist and they ran out to the nearest exit, which was thankfully the taxi rank. There was a long queue, the forensic technician had to do something. Waiting in line to get killed wasn't part of her plans for today.

They didn't have a minute to spare so she made an audacious move, a lynchable offense this time of the morning when everyone needed to be somewhere fast. She moved them to the top of the line, flashed her Crime Lab Id and said, "Police matter. I need this cab." She pushed Belle in before any one could protest. She gave the address to the driver, "Step on it," she said, like they do in the movies. Then she expelled a long deep breath.

Police arrived at the scene but neither men wished to be arrested and interrogated. Bryce, for the simple reason, he couldn't afford a mug shot or his Commanding Officer would have his ass. Both men instantly let go and let live. They up and left without a word, leaving the small business owners to sort out the damages with their insurers. But Bryce had pinched the other man's wallet. He, however, didn't have any such worry - he was sterile – meaning he carried nothing on his person.

The SAS man didn't leave though, he lingered incognito. He rounded the corner, remove a bandanna from his pocket, tied it around his head; remove his white polo shirt, tossed it in the bin and was left with a white singlet on. He purchased an _el cheapo_ pair of sunglasses and returned to the fight scene. He righted a upturned table and chair, sat down, ordered a cappuchino and watched two EMS tend to Valentino. He didn't miss a beat. One of the attending paramedics was heard to say, "Concussion... need to take him to St John." Bryce paid for the coffee, left a tip and Honda'd his merry way to St John's. _Valentino, meet your new doctor._

Spike called his wife only to hear the phone sing to him the starting stanza of _Ain't No Mountain High Enough..._

_If you need me__  
__Call me__  
__No matter where you are__  
__No matter how far __Just call my name__  
__I'll be there in a hurry__  
__On that you can depend and never worry_

Mr Scarlatti was mortified to think his wife was out there with no means to reach him if she was ever stuck, little did he know. He called the Crime Lab, Tia Cora answered in her polite and professional manner, "Crime Lab, how may I help you?"

"Tia Cora, it's Spike."

"Oh Spike, I'm so sorry to hear about Liley. So sorry..." she said sincerely.

"Thank you. We will miss her very much. Umm, Tia Cora, can you please patch me through to Winnie."

"Ah, she's not here, she left in a hurry around 8am." Spike went rigid.

"Did she say where she was going?"

"No, she didn't. I'll ask around, she might have told someone something."

"Don't worry, Tia Cora. I'll find her myself. Thanks."

Scarlatti switched on the tracking device to see if he could pick up the signal from Winnie's bracelet. She was on the move, it looked like she was heading back to the Lab. He gave the sofa bed a good kicking to let out his anger and frustration. Moppet moved out of his way. She was very sad.

Winnie, Belle in tow, reached the Lab and were heading to the morgue to make arrangement to get Liley home when Tia Cora spotted her and wiggled a finger at her. She turned to Belle, "Would you sit over there, I'll just see what she wants."

She approached the receptionist, who whispered, "Husband called." The wise older woman looked her in the eyes and said, "Call him. I suggest you tell the truth and nothing but the truth. I've got a feeling your man does not take kindly being kept in the dark." She picked up the phone and gave it to Winnie, "Now" she said.

Her heart still racing, she took the phone from Tia Cora; to ease her tension, she asked the maternal receptionist, "How much is he paying you?"

The Spanish Senora beamed and said, "Oh, he's a good man that one. Can't let you keep running off on him like that." Win rolled her eyes and felt ganged up upon.

The phone only rang once before Spike's pissed off voice asked, "Where have you been?"

"I can explain," she said. "But not here and not now. I've got to get Liley home."

Her husband sighed, "Love you. Sorry to be so cranky."

"Sorry too and love you, too. See you soon."

Win and Belle went to make arrangement to get Liley home. They spoke of nothing but the beautiful Canadian Eskimo dog on the way over. Belle said she felt as though she was responsible for the canine's demise, "Don't be..." Winnie said. "We didn't kill her. He did. Whoever he is."

Back at his home office, Spike had a hit. A name to the face! He had a sinking feeling.


	8. Farewell, Dear Liley

_Author's Note: Liley Lewis Scarlatti first came into being in the story, "Let Destiny Speak." Please read it in its fullness, if you haven't._

_Please tissue alert!_

**Farewell, Dear Liley**

When Winnie ended the call with Spike, she introduced Belle to the receptionist. "Belle, this is Tia Cora. She'll be looking after you for a few minutes while I get us home, ok." The young lass appeared intimidated, clutching her backpack on her chest for dear life.

"Tia Cora, my friend Belle."

The older woman smiled, came round to the other side of the counter and gave her a hug, "A friend of Winnie's a friend of mine. Come here." She escorted Belle to the other side of the counter and sat her down, shielding her from view.

"Go ahead, Win… look after Liley."

"Thanks." She voicelessly told Tia Cora to look after Belle, reading her lips the receptionist nodded and shooed her away. As soon as Win was gone, Tia Cora opened a drawer full of threats; she coaxed her, "Pick one." Belle smiled and took a packet of M&M.

"Coffee?"

"Yes, please. Is there a vending machine here?"

"Oh I can do better, see that café across the street, I make a phone call, and it would be here in minutes." Belle peeped across the street over the counter top, "Large cappuccino, please" and rummaged in her backpack for her purse.

"It's on the house." Tia Cora phoned to order the large cappuccino for Belle and a hot Spanish chocolate for herself.

Win went to see her Boss, "Imogen…"

Her Boss, Imogen Suzuki, despite her last name was French Canadian, married to an outstanding first class forensic scientist, first generation Japanese Canadian, Takashi Suzuki.

Imogen looked up from her desk and blurted out, "Ma chérie, I suis désolé. So sorry to hear about Liley." She got up to give Win a hug, a kindly act that caused her subordinate to burst into tears. "Now, now… go home. Rest. If you need me to file for compassionate leave, let me know how long you need. You work so hard, ma chérie."

Win sniffled and thanked her Boss, "I'll be ok… work would be good for me. The week-end is coming… that should be enough for me to catch my breath."

"Enough for you to catch your breath, but would that be enough for you to unburden your heart?" she asked wisely. "Anyway, I know work is good therapy but please don't hesitate if you need a longer break."

Win nodded, "Boss, I'll go see Ben, then I'll go home. See you on Monday…" she paused and then added, "Hopefully."

Imogen grabbed a few tissues to give her from her box that permanently sits on her desk. "Go, and give my love to that hunk of yours." The comment made Win smile.

Cameron reached the hospital's car park, and walked into the doctor's on-call room like he belonged. The 6'0 Aussie doctor introduced himself to a young intern, "I'm Doctor Cameron from Queensland. Where can I hang my leather jacket and where can I get a doctor's scrub?" He was so darn self-assured that the young intern could not have guessed he wasn't a doctor.

"In that room there," she pointed it out. Cameron moved his ass to the room and did just that. The young intern was mesmerised by the easy "cat walk". The doctor was an eye-candy, bluey-green eyes, ebony skin, muscles in the right places and a face that could launch a thousand Calvin Klein ad campaign.

He came out dressed in a doctor's scrub, "See ya later… time to do my round."

Cameron casually looked around until he found a nurse who didn't appear to be busy, in his Aussie drawl, he asked, "Can you show me where they admit casualty? I'm new here." Add the accent to the sex appeal and he had a personal tour guide, "Thanks."

He got there just as Valentino was being checked in. He observed. The victim has regained consciousness but was still groggy from the effect of hitting his head on the marble floor. He was given pain killers. _He'd be out of it for a bit._

Cameron noted his room number and then went to wait it out for a bit by hanging around at the triage, which was lucky for one little boy. He noticed a child cradled in the crook of his father's arm. He didn't look well. It wasn't just the fevered moaning that caught his attention.

"Daddy… I hurt." the boy cried. The father tried his best to soothe the hurting child.

It was the child's skin rash which was similar to measles that caught Bryce's attention. As an operator in the theatre of war, he's seen it on countless situations in Third World countries, the symptoms was as familiar to him as starvation and death. He went to speak to the father, "Have you visited a Third World country recently?"

"Yeah, we just got back from Indonesia with our Church mission group?"

"This looks like Dengue fever." He immediately called the head nurse and escalated the boy to the top of the queue. The father couldn't thank him enough. He whispered, "Nurse, possible dengue fever. Could be fatal in a child. Immediate blood test to confirm."

Meanwhile Spike had been digging a hole in the bush, at least four feet deep for Liley. He had been to the nursery with Moppet to buy a seedling of an indigenous Maple tree.

Winnie went to make arrangement for Liley's transport. Ben assisted by offering the Coroner's SUV to be driven by one of his trainees. Another 15 minutes and they were home bound. She phoned Spike to let him know when to expect them, "See you soon," he said.

He sighed, the hole in the ground was ready, and soon it would be covered up with Liley in it. But the hole in his heart, how was he ever going to cover it up?

He showered and changed into something white, he thought it appropriate in honour of the all-white Canadian Eskimo dog _**who**_ brought so much pride and joy into their lives. He was alerted to their arrival by Moppet's incessant barking; he opened the door in time to see the SUV stop outside the house. Winnie and Belle stepped out. He hugged his wife and didn't notice the flame-haired young lady who arrived with her.

He received Liley's lifeless form in his arms and carried her to the garden where he placed her carefully on a blanket. They stood around Liley and that's when he noticed her, he looked at Winnie who haltingly made the introduction. His eyebrow went up but decided now wasn't the time to discuss anything. Today was about Liley.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, her voice quivering.

"I've dug a hole in the bushland, and bought a seedling of a Maple tree. We'll plant this as a memorial to her." She nodded, and said she liked the idea. "Ok then," he said. He knelt down to picked up Liley; carried in her father's arm, all 35 kgs of her was the only way to go. Spike just couldn't wheel her out in a wheel barrow. He couldn't do it… it just wasn't fitting to the relationship they had with her. Winnie carried the seedling, Moppet walking alongside her. Belle hesitated but Win encouraged her to come along.

The procession took all of 10 minutes. In that time, they cried silent tears.

When they reached the bushland, Spike paused to look up, just then, a shaft of daylight came to rest on him and Liley. He carefully laid her to rest, his tears dripping into the soil as he shovelled the dirt back into the ground. Winnie knelt down to hug Moppet who was whining, her tail between her legs. She wept as the slug that killed Liley burnt a hole in her pocket and a tremendous hole in her heart.

Spike planted the Maple seedling on top to mark where a beautiful, courageous dog laid buried. He wept as he remembered how he found Liley slowly dying from an arrow shot in the leg, and how she brought him back to Bridget, his first love; and how she brought him and Winnie close and gave them a family.

When they were done, they headed back home hand-in-hand. Belle following a respectful distance behind. Moppet lingered a while with Liley and then followed half-heartedly.

Winnie showed Belle into one of the rooms, "We'll have lunch in a couple of hours." She gave her a tour and showed her the toilet and the bathroom. In spite of the sadness into which she came into their lives, she couldn't help but giggle, which in turn made Winnie smile. "I'll see you in a bit, ok?"

Spike looked for Moppet to find her laying down where Liley was slain. She didn't care to move, "You can't stay here, you know…." he ruffled her fur, massaging her sides. He led her back inside the house.

Winnie was nowhere to be seen so he went to the their bedroom to find her sitting on the floor, her back against the bed, hugging her knees, crying into her jeans. He sat in front of her, spread his knees wide so he could envelope her in them, with his hands he wiped her tears.

"How are you feeling?"

"Sore," she said. "I'm sore" as she pointed to her heart; then she cried into his hands.

Meanwhile, Cameron has had accessed to Valentino. He examined the sleeping stalker. He started with the hands. The callous on the hands and the fingers suggested the patient was a shooter. Everyone developed callous depending on what they do. Guitarists developed them in their fingertips. Shooters develop them on their trigger finger. To confirm, he examined the patient's shoulders. "Who are you?" he whispered.

He turned over the victim and saw a tattoo on his back, the Wolf was instantly alarmed. He took a picture and uploaded it to Spike's. Bryce debated with himself if he should kill the unarmed, sleeping man; he decided he wasn't that kind of a man. But he has to warn his friends… Valentino was more than just a weirdo.

Between weirdo and weirdo-er, Winnie may not stand a chance.


	9. Please Explain

_Author's Note: A lighter moment... like life's shades of dark and light._

**Please Explain**

It has been one hell of a morning and they're all feeling it. They heard the Honda swerved to a stop, Cameron has returned. "I better go," said Spike.

Winnie wiped her tears and suspended her mourning, like a trooper she decided to batten down, too. "I'll go with you. Time we get to the bottom of this." Spike smiled tightly, pulled her up, "Are you up to it? I don't mind dealing with this by myself."

In reply, she rested her face on his chest, it was comforting just to listen to his heartbeat, "I'm good," she said. They came out of the bedroom just as Cameron was entering the house, Belle had retreated to her bedroom. Bryce, on seeing Winnie, exhaled and shook his head. Spike picked up the signal, looked at his wife and asked a shade grim, "Do I wanna know?"

Quick thinking Winnie changed the topic, "Let's talk about it over lunch. And let me get Belle."

She hastily made her way to the bedroom and knocked, "Belle, let's have lunch." It opened readily. Their young visitor has showered and changed into something less boyish and refreshing. Her long braided red hair was in sharp contrast to the light blue long sleeved chambray shirt she was wearing. The sleeve rolled up passed her wrist. She partnered this with long black skirt and a pair of sandals.

Belle joined the couple in the kitchen, Wolf Man had gone to shower off the morning's activities. When he reappeared, hair still wet, he was barefoot, dressed in body forming T-shirt and loose fitting pants rolled up to his ankle, Belle could hardly keep her eyes off him. His presence was so intense.

"Belle, this is Bryce Cameron." The Aussie extended a calloused hand; it felt odd to the touch. Thick palm and even thicker knuckles, there wasn't anything tender about it; just solid and hard. He said, "Nice to meet ya," in a weird accent she couldn't quite place.

Belle's brain whirred, it filed away observations which made Winnie smile. The working of her brain _sound_ so familiar. Spike had the same ability; and the ability to get that brain of his kicked into gear at the drop of a hat. She found out this morning Cameron has the same thing going for him as proven by the boomerang hard bound book.

Winnie opened packets of biscuits and a variety of cheeses to start with, "Sandwiches ok?"

"Anything will do," said the hairy Wolf. The visiting SAS wasn't just chest hairy, his face was also covered in hair. Long hair. Long beard. The biblical Samson came to life.

"Where are you from?" Belle asked the intriguing tall man.

"Australia. Outback Queenslander," he said as he popped a bikkie, Aussie slang for biscuit. Her eyebrow met the ceiling, "Really? I thought you were from the sub-continent or the Middle East."

"I get that a lot," he said with a wink. Belle was embarrassed, there was something unaffected about the man. Self-assured but also guarded.

She asked, "How'd you know Winnie and Constable Scarlatti?" _Constable Scarlatti_, Cameron filed it away.

"Through my sister Billy. She was in a relationship with one of the guys in Spike's Team." _Spike_, Belle filed the information away.

The Scarlattis left them to talk among themselves while they made a huge variety of sandwiches. The wiry SAS guy could eat a mountain of food down him, not that Spike was any different. Moppet hanged around at Spike's heel and was treated with slices of ham now and again.

Armed with two trays of food, jugs of water and orange juice and a couple of beer for the men, they retreated to the alfresco dining table with the view of the garden and the bush; that's when Belle noticed that Spike, too, was barefoot. _Alpha males don't wear slippers,_ she thought. She tried to imagine them with grandpa leather slippers and had a giggle.

"What's funny?" asked Spike.

"Oh nothing, I just had a funny thought."

"A penny for it," said Winnie.

"Ah," she said rather shyly, "I tried to imagine you both wearing grandpa slippers." Both men simultaneously looked down at their feet, had visions of themselves in leather slippers and both exclaimed, "Nooo!" at the same time. The ladies laughed.

"How did you know Winnie and Spike?" Bryce asked as soon as they were seated.

"I didn't know them," she said. She was famished so she took a bite of a sandwich. They let her finished one. How she came to be here seeking refuge from not knowing this couple from a bar of soap was obviously going to be a very long story. She had juice to drink, then she begun to tell her story which at the end they concluded would have been great as an action fiction thriller.

"I was on the beach last Sunday. I was the one Thomas was talking to that morning. I had just emailed him a dossier on the company's CFO, the one we reckoned was responsible for the missing millions." She gulped. "I lingered around after Thomas was shot. Winnie, remember the woman who refused to give you her towel?"

Winnie nodded. "That's you?"

"Yeah, that was me, I couldn't give you my towel... you see I was using it to cover myself, like a veil. I just wanted to get close... to know if Thomas would make it. I feel resposible," she said teary. Winnie gave her hand a reassuring grip.

"Let me back up a bit...I have a triple major at University. Forensic accounting being one of them. Eighteen months ago, I joined the Graduate Program of this global mining group. Six months later, I noticed things weren't adding up: the inflow of revenue and the outflow of delivered goods weren't reconciling. We were getting less revenue for the amount of materials we were mining, processing and delivering."

Cameron asked, not liking where this was going, "And this product being?" The short answer was "Uranium." The two men reacted sharply. Cameron straightened up on his seat. Uranium was good for some very nasty stuff. It's not good news.

Spike said, "Canada is the second biggest producer, the first being Kazakhstan."

Belle continued, "The company was overdue for an external audit. In fact, very overdue. The Chief Financial Officer was resistant to the recommendation so I went behind his back and went straight to the CEO and the Board. I hacked into the secretary's computer and added "External Audit" into the agenda for the board meeting. That's when Precision was given the remit and where Thomas fitted in.

"We worked together... but there were things I could only pass on to him in secret. One of them being the dossier of the CFO. His real name, the one he was born with, was Michael Piper. But he's known by a different name now, in fact, he's been known by several names. His fingerprints matched four identities in the FBI Most Wanted List."

Belle's countenance darkened, "The Sunday Thomas was shot... I hanged around and followed you," she said looking directly at Winnie. "I saw you with Constable Scarlatti at the beach."

She shifted her focus to Spike, "I have a very good memory for names and faces... back when I was in Year 12, you were just just starting out as a street cop, you came to our school to give a talk on Careers Week. You were still only a Corporal." With a degree of pride she added, "It took a lot of digging to find out what you do these days... you're buried deep."

Shifting to Winnie again, she said, "Anyway I put two and two together and I assumed the only way to get your attention was to address the code to Winnie Scarlatti, it seemed not many people knew you as such. Let me get the file, I'll be right back." They watched her back as she stood to leave. Cameron commented, "That girl's got a lot of guts."

Belle returned with print-outs of Michael Piper back in the day and what he looked now. Both men were astounded. Bryce gave voice to what they knew, "Bloody hell, that's him."

Winnie took the photo from Spike, "The guy who shot Liley. The guy who was here last night."

The young woman turned white, "Oh my God... he's been here. Are we safe?"

"For now we are," assured Spike. "Do you think he killed Thomas?"

Belle replied, "I don't think so. He's a arm's length kinda guy. I believe he ordered it."

"Here's what I think..." they all turned their attention to Cameron. "Spike, did you have the chance to look at the photo I sent you this morning?"

"Not yet," Spike checked his phone. Picture of a tattoo. He passed the phone to Winnie who had a look, then she showed it to Belle.

"That tattoo was of a known Texas survivalist group," explained the SAS man.

The genius Belle who wasn't much into the hard reality of life asked, "What's a survivalist group?"

Spike explained this is a group of men and women who trained for emergencies, but may or may not have an inclination towards anarchy. "Survivalists acquire emergency, medical and self defense training. They stockpile food and water, prepare to become self sufficient and build structures to help them survive a catastrophe."

Bryce looked at Winnie dead straight with piercing bluey-green eyes, "Valentino didn't find you on Youtube, I think he had you on his scope the whole time and he was fascinated by you."

Belle reacted, "Oh my God, that just gives me the creeps." The very notion was very disturning indeed. It didn't bear thinking.

"He came here.. had a look around your house... there's no photographs of Spike anywhere. Nothing to suggest you were married. Just pictures of dogs... Your lives had to be sanitised for a reason. I get it but delusional people like Valentino doesn't need much to get on with his illusions."

"But that doesn't explain why Michael Piper came here last night?" said Spike. "Did he come to kill Winnie? Why would he, she doesn't know anything. She didn't see the shooter."

Clever Belle interjected, "He had no intention of killing her... I think he just want Winnie to get the phone for him."

"What phone?" Winnie asked. Belle played the video she took that day at the beach. She paused it where Det Curtis picked up Thomas' phone. "This phone... it's in evidence. He probably thinks it's in the Lab for analysis. And you're his way to get it back. He doesn't trust anyone else to get it for him... not even Valentino...maybe because the hired shooter has gone psycho..." She regretted it the instant she said it. "Sorry. I didn't mean to..."

Winnie shook her head, "Don't worry about it. What do we do now?"

Cameron sparked up with an idea, "Let's turn Valentino into State witness. Let me make a call to the hospital."

"Why's he in hospital?" inquired Spike.

"I gave him a concussion," Bryce replied as he sped dialled a number.

Winnie said, "They won't give you any information."

"I'm not calling the hospital, I'm calling one of the nurses," he winked.

Spike laughed, "She's already on speed dial? Bloody hell, you're quick."

"Hey, Dr Cameron here..." That prompted their eyebrows to collectively go up, "How's my patient doing? Valentino... yup... that one. Yeah. Ok, I'll wait. Ok. _**You sure? **_ Right. No worries. I'll see ya whenever you're free." He ended with the Aussie slang for thanks, "_Th'a_."

Bryce poured cold water on all of them, "He discharged himself an hour ago." And added with all seriousness, "You guys gotta watch your back."

Winnie closed her eyes. She suddenly felt very exhausted. Belle clasped her hand, she knew the feeling. She's been on the run from Michael Piper since he discovered what she had done.

Spike squeezed her other hand, the implication was clear: _I've got your back, hon._


	10. Ready, Set, Match!

_Author's Note: Bryce's heart-warming love story was first mentioned in the multi-chapter "The Wolf." For back story please read the chapter bearing his name._

**Ready, Set, Match!**

It was a long lunch by everyone's standard, three hours to be precise; but it was productive, at least now they have formulated theories to test and to work on. Everyone headed back inside when the sun shifted as it became too hot to enjoy the great outdoors.

The men gathered everything in one fell swoop. In Spike's case, balancing in one hand plates, utensils and glasses; and pinched between his fingers on the other hand were the bottles of beer. Bryce collected the left-over food tray and the jugs in the other.

They walked in buoyed in their spirit, reflected in their banter and jokes. When they reached the kitchen, Winnie felt something odd. She couldn't quite put her finger on it until she saw the fruit bowl. She always placed it in the centre of the island bench to serve as a décor as much as a functional item. But now, it was sitting next to the sink. _Since when?_

She ssh'd everyone by putting a finger on her lips. She searched for a flashlight, used it to spell "Bug" in Morse code. Spike gave her a quizzical look. She pointed to the fruit bowl, lifted it and showed him where she always put it. It could only have been Valentino since he managed to get in whereas Michael Piper didn't.

Using sign language, Spike told them to "keep talking" but the women, unused to deception, were verbally paralysed and were very self-conscious. Bryce solved this by turning up the music; it was playing "I Want to Know What Love is" by the Foreigners. Winnie thought it was appropriate for Bryce and Belle, the attraction between them clear as day. She left them alone to pay attention to Moppet who was still despondent. And just to be sure, the Tech Wizard ran to his home office to get a bug detector. _Better sure than sorry_.

Belle became aware that Bryce was singing along in a voice that was crystal clear, the timbre baritone and emotive. He was reclined on the couch, his eyes closed, hands under his head, long legs stretched out before him and his feet crossed over. There was something very magnetic and enigmatic about the guy. _I wonder who he really is_. She couldn't take her eyes off him. When the song ended, Bryce got up in one fluid motion and very nearly caught her watching him. He may have… he had in fact. But Bryce has sworn off loving. _Loving_, he reckoned, _is for the brave of heart and stupid of mind_. He loved once, and that was all he could give or so he thought.

Spike returned with a gadget that detects electronic bug devices. He started with the bedrooms. There were none in all four. He could only conclude that Valentino didn't find the rooms and must have wrongly assumed Winnie slept alone on the couch in the living room. He thanked his lucky stars again that his family joined him in his office that night. Although had Liley and Moppet been at home that said night, he doubted the stalker could have gained an inch into the house.

He checked everywhere. Satisfied that the rest of the house was bug-free he went to the kitchen and ran the detector over everything like a fine-tooth comb, lastly, he hurdled onto the island bench to check the smoke alarm; the detector went berserk.

Bryce came near to sticky beak. It was a listening device, thankfully no camera. Using Morse code, the SAS asked to have a go at the house himself, sometimes a double sweep was necessary. As methodical as Spike was, he went from left to right, top down and behind flower pots and furniture. He checked room by room and found none. It was a lone listening device and a cheap one at that.

Spike motioned with his head to Bryce, indicating they should talk outside. "I'm inclined to leave it there and feed him disinformation."

"Mate, I agree. But to be blunt, the way forward is to bring this to a head. You don't wanna be looking over your shoulders for any length of time. You wanna be hitting hard and fast."

"Yeah, let's go to my office and make it happen." They split up, Bryce looked for Belle; Spike, Winnie.

Bryce had no difficulty, he knocked on her bedroom door and she said, "Come in" thinking it was her hostess. The red-haired femme was reading, she looked up and was surprised to find the man with animal magnetism staring down at her reading a thick book, cross legged on the floor.

His eyebrows went up but the facial expression was unreadable, his features being obscured by thick bushy facial hair. She found it totally unfair that the man was camouflaged and masked without needing to. "What are you reading?" he asked with interest. Maybe he was interested, and in fact he was. He's never met anyone who read a thick book before. His life as an operative revolved around reading a couple of pages of briefs and manuals.

"War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy."

"Ah, I had to read that in High School. The abridged version is the best, spares you eye problem in the long run. Philosophy 101: Don't do it hard when you can do it easy." Belle wasn't sure what to think of it, was the man so unreliable that he only did things easy? But he didn't seem to be the type. She exhaled, hoping it would help expel the cobwebs in her brain.

"Let's go… Chinese parliament time."

"Sorry," she said.

"Huddle time," he explained with a smile. He reached out a hand and literally lifted her up her feet. He didn't even break a sweat. "You need more calories in you."

She smiled and said, "You can talk…"

Spike had been around the house and searched every room but couldn't find Winnie. He was almost frantic when he realised he hasn't seen Moppet either. The only place they could possibly be was the doggie mansion. He peeped in and found the loves of his life, Win on top of Moppet who was forlorn.

"I think we need to adopt another dog to keep her company," she said teary-eyed.

"We will… as soon as we get these two flushed out and down the drain." He stroked her cheek, hoping it would cheer her up somewhat. "Come… we need to talk. We gotta get this over and done with so we can move on."

Winnie got up and so did Moppet. She just couldn't be without Mom and Dad at the moment, she was so fiercely independent but right now she didn't want to be alone.

They were coming out of the doggie mansion at the same time Bryce and Belle were exiting the family home. The four of them walked to the office in a line, Winnie and Spike arm in arm. Bryce and Belle walking side by side with an elephant between them.

When they reached the grotto, Belle squealed with surprise. "It's not a grotto! Unbelievable." The interior was even more fascinating. Getting down the fireman's ladder was an experience. Bryce shook his head with disbelief, he wouldn't comprehend how someone had lived a life so wrapped in cotton wool.

They sat around threshing out what they knew so far. "I realised" Belle said, "the connection between Michael and Valentino. Texas! Michael Piper was born in Texas. "

Bryce piped up, "There's your connection. I bet they met at a survival camp."

From her memory bank, Belle related some basic information. Michael was born in 1970, so that makes him 42. Valentino appears to be the same age. Michael may have left Texas in the 1990s but no one knows for sure. He resurfaced in California as Micham Pope, reinvented himself as a car showroom salesman. He was charged with embezzlement in 1995." She paused to let them absorb the details.

"A civil lawsuit was pressed against him by the consortium of owners but he disappeared. He resurfaced in Alaska, called himself Macauley Pace and worked as a mining supervisor on stolen identity and credentials. That was back in 2000. He could have carried on living a lie, but in 2005 there was a cave-in on the site he approved as 'safe'. It turned out he couldn't tell a subsidence even when it was staring him in the face. Subsequent investigation revealed the deception. He was charged with criminal negligence but escaped before he could be convicted. Five miners died on that incident. "

They were stunned. Spike said, "Surely he would have run out of the initials M.P. by now."

Belle continued, "In all instances his fingerprints were taken but it took the development of the FBI's AFIS (Automated Fingerprint Identification System) 25 years ago for law enforcement agencies to catch up with Michael Piper and his ever-evolving personas."

They all nodded, before AFIS, every American State collected their own suspects' fingerprints with nowhere to match them against.

"Going back to Michael's story…. In 2007, he came to Canada. Reinventing himself as an executive expat. This time as Maddox Page. He worked his way up at different companies until in 2009 he joined the mining company as its CFO on bogus references. I joined the company's Graduate Program mid-way through 2010, since he became the Chief Financial Officer we have never had an external audit until I forced the issue underhandedly."

In the midst of what Bryce referred to as the "Chinese parliament" his pager went off. He groaned and signalled to them that he had to make a call. He went up to the workshop and was none too subtle with his outburst, "You have got to be fucking out of your mind. I'm on holiday. I've not had one in five years so you guys owe me."

A short pause… followed by a short fuse, "So sack me!"

Then another pause, "Ok, alright. But I'm not travelling cattle class. If I get to the airport and I'm not at least on business class I'm not boarding." He ended the call with a very endearing, "Fuck off."

He came down, Spike smiled at him and said, "That went well."

Bryce smiled, "Bloody Regiment calling me back to active duty. I hate to love you and leave you but my plane leaves in four hours."

Scarlatti looked stunned, Bryce picked up the nuance. Looking after two damsels in distress, not good for anyone's psyche. He looked at Belle and said, "Have you given them all they need to get this asshole?"

"Yeah, the file I gave Winnie has all the details."

"Well then, you're done here. Pack your bag, you're coming with me."

To say Belle was taken aback was putting it mildly, "Where to?"

"As a guest of my country."

"Why?"

Bryce rocked on his heels and glared, "I know why you're in hot water. You ask too many questions." Belle turned as red as her flaming hair and huffed. The Wolf clearly unimpressed hastened to add, "We gotta move, come on! Up on your feet."

Belle, to her surprise, followed the command but not without glaring angrily back, "Ok. Bossy boots!"

The two left, Spike and Winnie smiled at each other, "I think it's a match" said Spike.

Winnie replied, "Or a mismatch!"

Not to be left out, Moppet barked. "I think Moppet agrees… with either one of us," said Spike.


	11. Be My Guest

_Author's Note: A bit of comic relief. I've put you through the wringer enough. Consider this the calm before the storm. Please be warned the coming storm would be a ummm awesome ... so just please enjoy the momentary dip in suspense._

**Be My Guest**

The Scarlattis went out via the secret hatch with Moppet, climbing up the fireman's ladder not being the safest option for the three-legged canine whose left hind leg was cruelly chopped off as a new born pup. By the time they navigated the length of the sewer pipe, out through the bushland to briefly visit with Liley and in through the gate, Belle had finished packing.

The young woman smiled at them, and affectionately thanked Winnie for all she's done for her - a complete stranger who walked in from the cold, "I hope you get the bastard. And I hope you find out what the hell he's doing with the uranium. My imagination is running rampant..."

"No, it's thank **you**. You went over and beyond your civic duty. We'll get to the bottom of it. It'll be fine," Win replied. They continued to chat all the way to the front door. Spike and Bryce were huddled near the power machine, speaking in soft voices. On seeing them, the men clasped each other's forearm, then they heard the Aussie say, "She'll be right, mate."

The Canuck half-nodded, "Thanks buddy. Give our regards to Raf and Billy when you see them."

Bryce smiled, "You'll probably see them before I do." He then turned his undivided attention to Belle, "Ready?"

"Yeah," was her short reply.

"Well, hop in," he said as he straddled the Honda and offered her a helmet. Her jaw dropped. She looked at the Scarlattis as if to gauge if it was all a freaking joke. Her desperation was evident when it looked to her that it wasn't. She turned back to Bryce and said, "I don't think so..."

"Why not?" his brow furrowing.

"I've never even been on a bicycle," she said flabbergasted.

In utter disbelief, Bryce said, "You seriously need to see a fuckin' lawyer and sue your parents for child abuse. No one should not ever not have been on a bicycle." In spite of Belle's obvious discomfort the Scarlatti couldn't help but laugh. The contrast between Belle and Bryce was definitely seismic.

Belle continued to protest, "I can't..."

"Yes, you can. Read my lips... yes you can!" said the Wolf, bristling at Belle's refusal. "Look, I'm a very good driver so you have no need to worry."

Finally, Belle mustered the courage to climb on the backseat to ride pillion. "There's not even anywhere to hold on," she said. Bryce felt for her hands, wrapped them around him and said, "Hang on." He powered the Honda, and with a nod at the couple, he hooned away. Win and Spike cackled at the passenger's frightened facial expression.

"I hope Bryce go easy on her," Win remarked.

Spike embraced his wife, caressing the back of her neck, "I see very little chance of that... but you know what? She's in very good hands." _ I am, too_, she thought.

"Hey, I'll let you in on a secret," he said.

"What is it?" She lifted her face to him to look into his beautiful brown eyes.

"I love you more than Legos." She wrapped her arms around him and sighed. "I loved you first," she said.

"I don't think so..." he said.

"Yes, I did." He guided her into the house and they continued to debate who loved whom first and when. In fits of giggles and teasing, the couple enjoyed a late afternoon of romantic reminiscing. But someone, somewhere felt betrayed listening to their sweet-nothings. He felt Winnie had strung him along, making him believed she was single and unattached. Bryce was right on this count, a delusional mind didn't need much to fuel their illusions.

"We're here," Bryce stopped infront of a high rise,175 Bloor Street, East. He undid the clasp of his helmet, and then helped her with hers. Her face revealed, he was hit by a sudden pang of worry, she looked ill, "You ok?"

She fought back the tears, and whispered, "Yeah."

In a display of kind affection, he touched her cheek, it sent her heart into palpitations and her emotion in all direction. She's known the man barely a day and she's a total mess. _So help me God._

"Let's go," he hefted her backpack and offered her a hand. A minder came running out from nowhere to take the keys from Bryce, "Thanks for the ride, mate."

"No worries, Wolf" was the short reply.

They went up to Suite 1100, the Australian Consulate-General. She assumed they were there to get her a visa or maybe he lost his passport. _What would we be doing here otherwise?_

Bryce held her hand, she felt like a child being taken by a parent to school. They passed the guard who didn't bother to ask who they were and what they were doing here. They breeze through like they owned the place, she started to really worry when Bryce pressed a button on one of the secure doors. She was tempted to say "Are you sure you should be doing that?"

They were buzzed through before she could open her mouth, a nicely coiffed woman met them, middle aged and exquisitely dressed. High powered would be what she'd called the total package. Bryce beamed, "Hey Deb..."

She gravitated to Bryce and hugged him like a long lost relative. "Who's this?" she asked with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Belle, she's a friend. A refugee." She glared at the Aussie who rolled his eyes, "Can't you take a joke?" turning to Deb, "I've got a briefing... do you have my ticket by the way?"

The woman flashed him a killer smile, "First class all the way, baby. They interrupted your holiday, they gotta pay."

"That's why I love you." She didn't know what it was all about but whatever was between these two it's more than being friends, she thought. Bryce left without a second glance, or even said something like "Make yourself comfortable." _What an ass!_

Deb smiled at her, "Come with me." She gently held her elbow and guided her into a room. It was sparsely furnished, she suddenly felt like an apprehended prisoner when Deb left her to mull her circumstances. She must have been reading too many Frederick Forsyth novels because the whole surreal scenario just reeked of conspiracy to her.

A minute later, Deb returned with refreshments. "He won't be long, Wolf's just attending to business."

"Wolf?" she said uncertain who the hell Deb was referring to.

The Consulate secretary paused and realised Belle didn't know who Bryce Mabo Cameron was. And probably has no clue what he did for Queen and Country. To her credit, she recovered quickly, "Cameron is Wolf." She left it at that and hoped to God Bryce explain himself well.

Since she had no idea what on earth was happening or what was about to happen, Belle turned to Leo for company. At least Tolstoy made sense. Several chapters later, a gorgeous man in Armani fronted up to her. The bluey-green eyes looked familiar but nothing else was. Here was a man who looked like he stepped out of the pages of GQ. Tall, clean shaven, dressed to impress and leather shoes that screamed Ferragamo.

He flashed a smile, "As promised, you will be a guest of my country." She nearly died. Her eyes widened, it was none other than Bryce. The SAS gave her a crooked smile which magnified the sex appeal a hundred times, "Glad to see I still have it." She felt embarassed behaving like a school girl.

He sat across from her and gave her several tickets. "First leg, Toronto-Singapore. Second leg, Singapore-Brisbane. Third leg, train from Brisbane to Cairns and from there my sister Billy will bring you to Gulf Savannah. Sorry it's all cattle class but you'll love the outback. Promise."

His eyes were dancing when he pulled a soft toy out of his pocket, a polar bear, "When you get there, could you give this to my son, Rajo." She took the toy and felt her heart break. "Thanks," he said and then stood to leave.

"Can I ask you...?"

"Sure, what would you like to know?" He sat back down, rested his elbows on his knees.

"What exactly do you do?"

The bluey-green eyes stared back at her, as if probing the depth of her soul, "I'm SAS."

"Oh... but isn't that hard."

"Meaning?"

"You said, you prefer to do things easy."

He looked at his hands and replied, "It's complicated."

"Why do they call you Wolf?"

"It's a long story."

She sighed. She realised it would be easier to pull a dinosaur's tooth. Belle nodded and gave him a tight smile. She checked her departure date, it was today.

"I should go to the Airport if I'm to make it on time to board."

"You're going with me," he said. She instantly paled. He laughed. "Don't worry, I'm driving... a car this time." She visibly relaxed.

When they reached the basement parking, it was a sleek black late model Lexus. But her happiness over not having to hoon in a Honda power motorcycle was very short lived when Bryce accelerated from nought to 60 mph in less than six seconds. The man was a whirlwind and she was caught up in his vortex. _Not good,_ she thought. _What was I thinking?_

She realised that was the problem, she wasn't... thinking.


	12. Achilles Heel

_Author's Note: Please read while seated. This chapter will start sweet and end bitter. It could be distressing for some._

_Thank you, dear readers, for taking this journey with me._

_A small packet of** tissue alert!**_

**Achilles Heel**

Bryce put the pedal to the metal with the effect of flying in the Lexus to the Aiport rather than driving to it. As a passenger, Belle didn't mind at all the swerving and the speed; the driver was relaxed, adept and supremely confident behind the wheel. Her sense of adventure growing, she 'let go' of the tenseness in her shoulders, sat back, closed her eyes and enjoyed the ride.

Bryce watched her in his peripheral vision and noticed the smile. It made him smile to himself. Before long, she heard him say, "Here's where you get off."

She opened her eyes and looked at him rather confusedly, he turned to look in the direction of the entrance, "Singapore Air."

"You're not going with me?" she said sounding totally stupid to her own ears.

"No. I'm going somewhere else." He looked behind and noticed the cars that banked up waiting to take over the space they were occupying. To reassure her, he said, "You'll be right, mate."

Afraid sadness would get the better of her, she looked dead ahead, not daring to look at him, "I was perfectly safe here... I don't know why I have to go over there. What would I achieve in doing that?"

She sensed his skepticism, "Safe? Here? Is that why you're been running around like a headless chook?" Turning to him, her facial expression read '_headless chook?'_

He laughed, "Headless chicken. You've been running a round like a headless chicken. Anyway, it's a round trip ticket, when RCMP gets your guys, you'd be safe to start over again. Anywhere in Canada." His head turned towards his six o'clock, "I better go, someone is bound to punch my mug soon."

She got the drift, _must get off._ "Thank you. Will we meet again?" she asked hesitantly.

"That I can't promise." His bluey-green cat eyes clouded. "Go... I have a flight to catch." She lifted her backpack off her lap and climbed out. Ever vigilant, he waited until she was safely inside the edifice before swerving off and merging with the traffic heading to the secure long-term carpark.

Belle debated with herself. _Should I check in?_ But she hasn't seen the other side of the world, _'So why not?_ _What was it he said? You'd love Gulf Savannah, promise.'_

Before checking in she powered up her laptop and Googled Gulf Savannah. After reading a couple of write ups about the 'great unknown' she's never heard of til an hour ago, she was convinced this was going to be an adventure of a lifetime. She may never see Bryce again but she'd see a part of the world very few have. He has a place so remote it was far off the beaten track. Just walking where he walked was something the romantic in her desired. _Perhaps there'd be nothing more to this, but it doesn't matter._ The future was beckoning, all she had to do was fly to it.

She promised to herself that if she ever had the opportunity to have a daughter, she'd call her Savannah. The realisation of what she just mentally promised herself knocked her off her seat. _Don't be ridiculous._

As she waited in the departure lounge to head south, Bryce was waiting in the VIP lounge of British Airways to head north-east. Presently, their ways were divergent; their lives polar opposite; their personalities hot and cold. Nevertheless, they would be powerless to avoid what was to come for their fate has been sealed.

**8pm**, Friday night. Spike and Winnie had a cosy afternoon after their guests left. In barely 24 hours, they've been through a gamut of emotions. They've been happy and kidding around, sad and teary remembering Liley, worried for Moppet, hopeful for Belle and Bryce and anxious to get the matter of Valentino and Michael Piper behind them. As dusk turned to night, Spike put an arm around Winnie, "Let's go to my office. I've got some things to do."

But first she packed a basket of food to take with them, locked up the house and followed a well trodden path to "The Grotto."

**9pm **They were laying on the sofa bed munching on sandwiches and watching a movie when Spike's cell phone came to life. It was Team Four's main man, "Hey, Spike. It's Troy here. Sorry to hear about Liley."

Spike thanked him for his concern. He sensed Troy's hesitation, so he saved him the agony of asking, "Are you a man down?"

"Buddy, we need a Techie. We're spoiled for choice for sniper but a Techie? Unfortunately – you're it, can you give us a hand? I wouldn't ask if...?"

"No sweat... when does shift start?" Spike locked eyes with Winnie who asked for the phone. "Hold on buddy someone wants to have a word with you."

"Hey Troy..."

"Hey Winnie, sorry about Liley and sorry to take Spike..."

"Don't lie to me, you're not sorry you're taking him away," she said in mocked anger. And just as quickly her tone changed to sugar and spice, "Just return him in good order, ok?"

Sgt Troy laughed heartily, "I predict it'd be a very quiet day tomorrow. He'll be very bored. Shift starts at 7am for 9. Thank your man for me. Oh, and thank you for letting him off the hook. Be safe."

Spike wondered what happened when Winnie hanged up, "He hasn't told me the start of shift..."

"7am for 9 start," she said smiling. "Now, back to the movie."

"I'm not sure why we're watching a weepy dog movie," he said referring to "Hachiko". By the end of the film, they were both cathartically crying their eyes out. Physically and emotionally exhausted with the day's event which started with an attempted break and enter into their house, they literally fell into a comatose sleep, Spike sandwiched between Winnie and Moppet.

Constable Scarlatti woke up refreshed, sort of, at 5am. Showered and got ready to go to SRU HQ to cover for Team Four's indisposed Techie. With any luck, it would be fairly quiet day. It's the start of the week-end, people generally sleep in after a hard Friday night's partying or after a hard week at work. He wished he could wave a magic wand, put a spell on everyone to sleep til end of shift. Then, Team Three with the able leadership of Sgt Sabine can worry about them all. He smiled at the very silly thought, _I better not mention that to Donna._

Winnie was already wide awake, "Can't you sleep-in?"

She shook her head as she removed sleep from her eyes. Spike observed how cute she was sitting on the sofa bed in a lotus position in her Tweety pajamas; her hair all fuzzy and standing on ends in all direction. She looked very vulnerable. But that appearance was very deceiving, he has come to know how tough she could be and how strong. At any rate, he still liked to be the super hero, he sat on the edge of the sofa bed as he tied his laces, "Are you going to be safe til I get back?"

Winnie laughed her crackly laugh, "Yes, my super hero, I will. Now, let's go get you some breakfast."

They headed back, when they reached the house, Winnie unconsciously peeped through the slats of the venetian window, trying to assess if any unwanted guest had been in. Spike was just a wary, the house no longer felt the refuge it was meant to be for them. He opened the sliding door and was relieved that the piece of string was unbroken, meaning no one tried to prise it open in the night. The slats on the windows all looked untouched, but he was still unnerved, not for himself, but for his beloved.

"What would you like for breakfast?"

"I'd like the lot! I'm really hungry." Then he remembered the bug in the smoke alarm. He pointed to it and mouthed _"bug"._ Winnie was surprised. She held out both her hands and mouthed _"Why haven't you remove it?"_

Spike led her to the alfresco dining area and explained he planned to use it against Valentino by feeding him disinformation, "I'll think of something." She nodded her understanding although uncomfortable with the idea, "Ok, but not for long." Her husband assured her it would be just for a couple of days.

After a full breakfast, Spike kissed his wife good bye, "See you in the afternoon." Someone heard. He was always up early especially when his twin was around. Michael never slept in, even as a child, he was always forever awake making mischief and getting them both into all sorts of trouble.

The fraternal twins, Valentino and Michael Piper, were borne of the same parents but received different genetic make-up. Michael, more recently alias Maddox Page, was older by 20 minutes. He was the alpha male. He had in him the very bad combination of being wily, too clever for his own good and a socio-path.

Valentino, the omega male, was the unthinking follower. The one happy to march to someone else's tune. And sadly, his I.Q. registered on the low side of the spectrum, what modern psychologists would term "special needs".

But what made both of them scary as hell was the fact both were raised in a Texas survivalist camp and were taught everything from living off the land to killing with a gun. Both were sniper trained by the best; their father who raised them singlehandedly, after their mother left them, was a Vietnam veteran from whom they inherited the M14 rifle.

The day was predicted to be sunny, a good day to go to the beach. Totally forgetting about the existence of the bug, Winnie asked Moppet if she would like to go for a run to the beach. Dog owners tended to do that, talk to their pets like they could actually reply back. She chatted to her as she got ready, every word she said, everything, was recorded and gleefully listened to by two predators.

"Let's go. That's our chance to snatch her," said Michael.

His twin perked up, "I can have her, right? She can get married with me. I really, really like her. No, no... I really, really love her."

Michael looked at his 'slow' brother with disdain. It didn't matter what he does with her, he had no interest in women anyway. As long as he could get the damned phone back, and everything else Belle may have handed to them. _I know she gave them my file. I know so. I'm gonna have them back and I'm gonna kill them both._

The fake Maddox Page didn't fear authorities, not at all! He had gotten away with a lot because he reckoned authorities were all a bunch of incompetent nincompoops. Stealing in his youth, embezzling funds, compromising people's safety – the list goes on and on. But this time it's different. Dealing secretly with a known terror group to sell uranium was a renditional offense. He didn't fancy residing in Gitmo. Not in his dreams, not by a long stretch.

If he was ever caught, there would be no way out of it. He could forget about being placed on remand at the city jail. He could forget lawyers. No one escaped the long arm of "the National Security Act." He made his millions, safely stashed away but what good was all that cash if he wasn't around, fancy-free, to spend it all!

For all the trouble she caused him, he swore to kill Belle with his bare hands, that's after he killed Winnie and Spike. _Troublemakers! But I'll have my fun with him first. There's something very appealing with the notion of raping a man in uniform._

Michael and Valentino parked their car along a stretch of quiet street en route to the beach. Half an hour later, their patience was rewarded. They saw the top of Winnie's head as she climbed up the steep rise of the footpath, Moppet following closely behind. _She treats the dog like her child, that dog was her Achilles heel. Threaten the dog's life and she'd be compliant. _

Winnie was watching behind her so she didn't see Valentino standing there ready to grab her. Moppet barked, angrily. She looked forward but it was too late. He had her in a chokehold with two swift moves. First, he grabbed her wrist, then twisted her arm against her back. She was bodily pressed to his front, his left arm around her neck.

Michael kicked Moppet with steel toed shoes, the dog yelped and whimpered in agony. The canine let out a heart-rending cry. Win heard bones break, _could be her ribs_. Win screamed except no voice came out of her voice box, not with the pressure being applied by Valentino against her neck. Moppet writhed in pain, she looked at her with tears coming out in torrent. _First Liley, now Moppet._

Michael looked at her with venom, "Scream and I'll kill her." She nodded frantically. She eyes pleading, _Dont, please don't. _ He laughed, it sounded horrific and devoid of human empathy.

"Take her to the car," he ordered Valentino. And just as she was being bodily lifted, she heard Michael bash Moppet on the head.

She tried to turn her head around, crying, screaming inwardly. _My baby._

Spike had no reason to believe his beloved were in danger. But Moppet laid dying on the street for over two hours until two teenagers who knew her by name found her nearly at death's door. They called Animal Rescue. For some reason or another, it took another hour for help to arrive. And only after the boys' persistent tearful calls, begging the despatcher to please hurry, "We're losing her."

She reached the Pet Hospital literally at the end of her lifeline. When the veterinarian scanned her microchip Spike's name came up as the registered owner, they tried calling his personal phone numerous time but it kept going to voicemail. He didn't turn his personal phone on at work, that's just as a matter of professionalism. Afterall, everyone close to him know to call 9-11 or HQ.

Afraid that Moppet had lost her will to live, the Vet instructed her staff to "Call 9-11, flag Spike Scarlatti, he's listed as a Constable, they should know where to find him."

When the call finally came through to Spike, he felt his world caved in!


	13. Turbulence

_Author's Note: Swear words alert. And, maybe tissue alert. _

**Turbulence**

When Valentino grabbed her, she hoped he'd stow her away in the boot of the car, for even gagged and bound, she has a fighting chance as Spike had taught her many survival skills. It appeared though that the evil twins had factored this in, so she was forcibly bundled at knife point into the rear passenger seat guarded by the _omega_ man. They didn't even bother restraining her.

As a weapons forensic specialist, she recognised it as a survival knife. One which both the blade and the handle were cut from a single piece of steel. One side was serrated and the other a finely sharpened blade. A single thrust to the kidney would be all it'd take to finish her. Up close and personal, a knife was deadlier than a gun. It couldn't miss; couldn't misfire, couldn't jam; and at this proximity, couldn't be wrestled or kicked away. And it didn't have a safety.

Michael Piper was the designated driver. Before he turned on the engine, he looked directly at her and spoke ominously, "Don't even think about it. The doors are 'child locked', so trying to escape would mean jack shit." The cold steelness of his eyes were menacing in the extreme. Unable to stand the discomforting stare she looked away, an act for which the sociopath took offense. "Look at me, bitch, when I'm talking to you."

Winnie refused to give in, it earned her a whack on her right knee which caused her to jerk in searing pain. Tears of despair for Moppet mixed in with tears of physical agony streamed down her face. "Look at me when I'm talking to you or there'll be more of that coming."

She recognised it as a means of subjugation. A way to make her compliant and to emotionally weaken her. Part of her didn't want to give him the satisfaction of getting the upperhand but she knew her knee won't be able to take another hit like that so she complied if only until she could find a way of escape.

She was well aware Michael was a proponent of Krav Maga, a martial arts discipline that, simplified, has two basic philosophies. One, to use whatever means there is to win the fight and that means targeting the most vulnerable parts of the body (the eyes, neck/throat, face, solar plexus, groin, ribs, knee, foot, fingers) and two, once injured to keep hitting it. She has no doubt he would sadistically keep hitting her right knee until her knee cap fractured. She couldn't let this happen. If she could just keep herself together, she could survive this nightmare.

Swallowing her fear and despair, she looked at Michael but saw the reflection of the devil instead. She felt her stomach turned, in an effort to keep herself from vomiting she clasped both hands over her mouth and exhaled into it. The gesture prompted a terrifying cackle from her primary captor.

Seeing how vulnerable and frightened she was, Valentino was torn between his feelings for Winnie who he had taken a shine on; and fear and blind loyalty to his twin. All he could say was, "Mike, we have to go, someone might spot us." That, at least, proved a master stroke; the _alpha_ twin faced forward and drove on.

Once she had enough air in her, she calmed down a little and that's when she noticed she has lost her bracelet. Perhaps during the struggle it was ripped off from her. All she has to show for it was a red mark on her wrist where it was violently snapped out of her during the scuffle. The very realisation she lost her link to Spike caused her to double over; trying desperately and failing to restraint herself from panicking. Valentino showed concern, "Are you in pain? Do you have a stomach ache?"

"Don't be a idiot! " hollered Michael from the front. "She's play acting for sympathy, moron." He thumped the steering wheel in anger.

Her head between her knees, Winnie sobbed. Her mind thought of her predicament. She has so much to live for, so much to lose. Last week, she missed her period. Her body wracked in sobs as she realised she may never ever know for sure if she was carrying a baby. She may or may not be pregnant, but she possibly would not ever know. Sorrow and regret floated to the surface and stayed on her throat suffocating her.

And, if she were to die, how was she going to tell Spike how much she loved him. _Surely, he must know but I'd like to be able to tell him everyday how much I love him. __And Moppet, who will look after her? Is she even alive? Please be alive. Please, we can't all be gone. Please._

She sat up feeling exposed and defenseless. She embraced herself for warmth and comfort. Her fingers touched something solid. Her cellphone! And hallelujah, she recalled she had set it on silent. The sudden dawning that she has something in her person that could be a lifesaver gave rise to hope. She blinked rapidly and her breath caught. Michael who was eyeing her closely from the rear view mirror noticed a change in her demeanour and suspected something.

"Val, check her out. See if she carrying a cellphone." She closed her eyes and felt as if she put one foot into the grave but she didn't want to give up without a fight. As quickly as she could manage it, she slipped her hand inside the pocket of her jogging pants, removed the device and inserted it into the crack of the seat. With any luck, after she's been searched, she'd be able to carefully retrieve her cellphone.

Valentino's hands turned her pockets inside out and found nothing but a coin purse. Not satisfied with that, his hands roamed on her body, feeling her breasts, her hips but when he traced the crack of her bottom it was all she could bear. She angrily slapped him. It didn't matter now if Michael knee-capped her again, _no one touches her but Spike_. _**No one. **_To her relief, Michael found the slap a hoot, "The bitch slapped you. Idiot."

Then he turned his attention to Winnie, "I like you. You have spirit." He said 'spirit' with a gleeful pump of his fist. Then his eyes flashed, and in a dire warning announced, "I'd like to see how far I'd have to go to break that spirit." This time Winnie stared back with venom. Far from being insulted, Michael found her defiance amusing. He laughed and laughed and laughed.

A few minutes passed before she dared to grope for her phone, she soon discovered she shoved it too deep into the crack of the seat. Her heart sank again, it's a wonder it hasn't arrested from the sudden highs and troughs she's put it through in the last half an hour.

Soon, they reached an isolated industrial estate. An urban landscape that had been a victim of the global financial crisis. Abandoned. Decrepit. Decaying. Consigned to the dustbin of hopelessness. The car eased into what must have been intended as a garage. Valentino hauled her out of the car kicking and screaming. With one strong push, he made her sit on the concrete floor. "Don't move," he said. "I'll be right back."

When he returned, he had a pair of cuffs with him. He chained one of her hands to the water pipe and her right foot to a hook bolted to the floor. With the 'click' of the chuff, she was shrouded in mental and emotional darkness. The only light she had, and it was a light no one would ever extinguished was the belief that her beloved will never ever stop looking for her.

Left to herself, she had the chance to think through the events that led to this_, I'm so sorry Michaelangelo, I should have listened to you_." Her regrets were multitudinous and her worries deep.


	14. Ambivalence

_Author's Note: Maybe tissue alert!_

**Ambivalence**

Sgt Troy found Spike at the despatcher desk where Peter had called for him to answer a call. The Techie appeared to be shell shocked and mute. They locked eyes, Spike didn't have to say a word; his countenance was enough to suggest all was not well. Sgt Troy told Spike to go sort out his emergency. "It's another five hours till end of shift, in another three hours Toby from Team Three will be in. It's been a quiet day… go."

Scarlatti hurried, he didn't change out of his uniform and was running out the door when Sgt Troy stopped him and asked for his side arm to be caged. Spike shook his head, turned in his side arm and practically hurdled out of HQ.

His brain was screaming at him questions after questions. If Moppet was found on the side of the road, but where was Winnie? It didn't take a genius to figure out that his beloved was in trouble. _Where are you? Where are you? Maybe I should go find her first. Moppet's in good hands. _But he was advised by the Vet that Moppet was touch and go. That he needed to hurry because the canine was in severe distress, "She needs one of you to be here ASAP."

He turned on the tracking device to see if he could find Winnie, the signal came loud and clear from a road between their house and the beach. The signal was stationary. As a husband and a father of a canine, he didn't know what to do first. Look for his wife or see to their dog? He was torn to shreds with the decision he had to make. This ambivalence was not one he'd ever want to endure again. He wouldn't wish it on his worse enemy!

His eyes flitted back and forth between the traffic road ahead and the tracking monitor, the signal hasn't moved an inch, it really could only mean one thing: it wasn't attached to Winnie anymore. With a very heavy heart, he decided to attend to what he knew to be factual. That was that Moppet needed him right now, and not a moment to lose!

He reached the Pet Hospital and made his way to the reception. His uniform was a dead give-away, from behind him a voice said, "Constable Scarlatti, this way." It was the Vet. She introduced herself to him as they hurried along the corridor to a room where Moppet was being prepped for surgery.

Spike arrived just before they sedated Moppet, "Hey," he said. The canine looked at him and tried to get her neck up. He stopped her, stroking her neck gently, cooing to her like a baby, "It's ok… I'm here." The Vet, Dr Jezalina Crawford, turned around to give Spike and Moppet privacy as the Constable drowned in tears. The state of Moppet physical injuries was very telling, that she had made it this long was a testament to her will to hang on for dear life, not just hers but also for her humans.

"Constable Scarlatti, it is time," Spike nodded and moved out of the surgical team's way but still in Moppet's direct line of sight. He regulated his breathing, and reduced his heart rate to well below sixty beats per minute because the dog was very sensitive to his moods. If he felt fear, Moppet would sense it. If he could stay calm and peaceful, then she could be, too.

He walked with them to the theatre's door, kissed Moppet's paw one last time and wished the team good luck. When the swinging door shut in his face, Spike collapsed to the floor. He crawled his way to the side and rested his back against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chin.

They just buried Liley. There was no way in hell he was going to dig another grave. No way in hell!

When he has calmed down a bit, he stood weakly up, blood rushed to his brain making his queasy. He leaned on his knees till he could regain his equilibrium. Hobbling to the office to sign some papers, he passed by the waiting room and saw a little boy, not much older than six, and his mother. He stopped to checked on them. The mother smiled at him with tearful eyes. He observed that the little boy appeared to be in equally the same state of distress as he was in.

He approached and knelt in front of the child, then he realised he was blind. "Hey," he said. "My name is Spike Scarlatti and my dog's name is Moppet." The child tearfully beamed at him, "I'm Charlie and my dog's name is Pea Nuts. Not peanuts as in peanut butter. It's Pea and Nuts. He's my seeing-eye dog. He was run over this morning."

He looked to the mother who tearfully said they've come to say good-bye because they've chosen to put her to sleep. His eyebrows went up, the mother silently mouthed the words, "We have no pet insurance, we couldn't afford the surgery." Spike was stunned, he was not going to let a little boy lose his best friend and his seeing-eye dog, he put a hand on the mother's and mouthed, "Leave it with me." He turned back to Charlie and said, "Well, maybe today is not goodbye."

Charlie flashed a smile that could only be described as a moon beam, "That would be awesome." Then he softly asked the question, "May I see your face?" Spike nodded, then remembered the child couldn't see. "Yeah, it's ok," he said.

Charlie traced his fingers on his face starting with his head. He felt damp, his eyes were wet with tears, "You've been crying. Why?"

"Because my dog was hurt…" it was all he managed to say before his voice cracked.

"You have a beautiful face," said Charlie. It made Spike smile, the boy's fingers landed right where his facial craters formed, "You have dimples… deep ones."

"Are you worried for Moppet?" asked Charlie.

"I am."

"Well, don't be. Everything's gonna be ok, trust me." Spike shook his head in disbelief, he came forward to comfort a boy who in turn gave him back more than he gave.

"Thanks," he replied, "I trust you."

The mother whispered, "Charlie Lewis, you better let the police officer go now. He's probably busy."

"You're a police officer?"

"Yeah, I am…. Charlie Lewis." Instead of letting Spike go, his hands fell on his shoulders and felt the patches of his uniform, the buttons of his shirt, the pockets, "Wow, I've not met a police officer before. Thank you," he said it like Spike has done something massive for him.

"No problem," he said. "Well, I better go to the hospital's office and sign some papers."

He gave the mother's hand a tight squeeze, "Everything gonna be ok," he said. She understood it to mean their dog could be saved, too. He patted Charlie's head before he turned to leave. Spike looked up and uttered a thoughtful thanksgiving to his eternal friend, Lewis Young who gave his life to keep the peace, "Thanks for having my back, bro."

The registrar gave Spike some papers to sign and provided the details of their pet insurance. He mentioned that he would also like to pay for the surgery of a seeing-eye that belonged to Charlie Lewis. The office manager looked at him with wide eyes, "Officer, do you know the costs of the surgery? I think I should want to tell you all the fine print."

Spike shook his head, "Just do it… where do I sign?"

"Officer, the cost would be astronomical." She was right to be worried because pet surgery, hospitalisation and medication could easily run into five figures. Spike smiled and said, "Whatever it takes."

"Thank you," said the registrar and was relieved that for a change, thank goodness, they wouldn't have to put to sleep a pet which had no business dying.

When all the paper work was done, Spike walked back to his car. Sat there motionless and wished for respite. His business phone buzzed, he exhaled, _It better not be a city emergency. I couldn't handle another one._

He answered the call, it was a video feed. Of Winnie tied to a chair, Michael Piper standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders.

"Constable Spike Scarlatti… here's what I need you to do to get your wife back."


	15. Silence

_Author's Note: Paul is a recurring character in many Spike and Winnie mystery thrillers. If you need back story on Paul, please start with "Weapons of Mass Destruction."_

_Winnie learned Morse code in the multi-story "The Love Offensive". She used the same skill set in the story "Hell Hath No Fury."_

**Silence**

Spike felt burning rage in his heart as he viewed the video feed. He followed the sociopath's hands as it moved along her face, feeling utter disgust and loathing. Winnie wasn't showing any fear although she was tied up and was roughly handled. Her hair was a fine frizzy mess; one cheek was turning blue and God knows where else she may have been hit. His heart ached to hold and comfort her.

Michael's hands cupped the sides of Winnie's face to keep it straight forward for Spike's viewing pleasure, "I need you to gather all the evidence and bring them to me, including Andrew's phone." Spike's attention was focused on Winnie's eyes. She was rapidly blinking…. saying something to him… communicating with him… reaching out to him, silently, stealthily, cleverly.

_C E L, M P, C A R, L U V U_. He pumped his fist_. She left her cellphone in his car! You beauty! You're not just beautiful sweetheart… you're one damn hot bright chick and I love you, too._

The camera panned to Michael Piper. An annoying easy grin plastered on his face, taunting the grieving husband, "No loose ends, Spike. I'll call you in four hours with directions and don't be calling your friends of your predicament. Or, this beautiful face will be no more." He was shown a knife going through the motion of slitting her cheeks. He felt his heart skipped.

"And then after I've had my fun with her, she would be no more." The knife went through the motion of slitting her throat going left to right, "No more Winnie."

"Adieu Scarlatti…. Oh here, just so you know I'm a good sport, I'll kiss her for you." He leaned down to kiss her; she met his face head on with an almighty head butt. Her forehead landed smacked bang the centre of his face. "Bitch," and slapped the already bruised cheek, jerking her head back.

"You bastard!" Spike screamed at the phone screen. It motivated him to rescue his wife. He tempered the rage burning inside him. He knew to have any measure of success he has to approach this clinically, intelligently and methodically_. You messed with the wrong man, asshole._

He pressed the clutch pedal of his manual car and held it to the floor, shifted the gear shift to neutral and started the engine. He drove back home with grim determination. _No one messes with my family_.

Spike reached his house in record time. Bolted out of the car, hurdled through the small side gate and sprinted to his office. He had set a game plan. He would download a virus in her phone that would enable him to use it as a GPS locator and a listening device. He hoped it was in a good hiding spot. Discreet yet handy so he could hear clearly what's being said.

There wasn't any moment to lose_. _Watching the clock, he felt a sense of urgency._ Four hours, he'll call me back in four hours._ He wouldn't be waiting around cooling his heels while Michael Piper has his wife.

He was convinced it was not about the evidence. It's about him and Winnie disappearing. These days, evidence could be uploaded online within minutes, and leaked just as fast so getting them back didn't mean it wouldn't pop up somewhere in cyberspace. He was equally sure that after he sorted them, Belle would be next.

He watched the video again, that's when he noticed it. Someone was manning the camera. _Valentino? But what's the connection between these two? _

His eyes shifted to the pile of documents Belle had single-handedly gathered._ The answer is in here somewhere, I just have to make the connection. One or two hours of intelligence gathering is better than walking in with all guns blazing._

He perused the file, starting from the oldest to most recent. Speed reading, he noted Michael Piper's birthdate, February 14. _Valentine's Day. Valentino!? _He went back to the captured video of Valentino as he broke into their house; and viewed it side by side with that of Michael Piper the next night. They don't look identical. But they appeared to be the same age, almost the same height, has the same eye colour. _Fraternal twins?_

He contacted RCMP Cybercrime unit and asked for another favour, "Paul, could you run this guy against American database. He was born in Texas, may not even be here legally."

"I remember this guy. I did a search on him a few days ago.."

"Yeah, you did. But we didn't find anything here. Time we check with the cousins across the ditch. Thanks Paul and would you please get back to me ASAP."

"Sure thing." Spike stared at his phone a second longer, relieved that he has someone like Paul in his life.

His computer pinged and his brain shifted gear again. The virus download was complete! He's got a GPS locator in Michael's car. A smile finally cracked on his dial.

Back in the dingy, smelly garage, Winnie was cut off from the chair and cuffed to the water pipe again. She ached all over and worse she could feel wetness in her underpants; and a cramping sensation inside her belly. She knew instinctively that she was in the early stages of a miscarriage. She sighed and curled up in a foetal position to ease her pain.

Seeing her in distress Valentino looked at her with a hint of compassion. When Michael went out, he came over to her and said, "Are you ok?"

Winnie looked up to see a pair of eyes that didn't register a lot of intelligence, a pair of eyes that were more of a child's than a man who had committed a string of felonies. She tried to smile, "Is your friend gone?"

Valentino smiled and said, "He's not my friend. He's my twin." Winnie gasped. She couldn't have picked them to be related, let alone twins. "He's very clever. I'm just stupid." It suddenly dawned on her that Michael was the puppet master and poor, poor Valentino was the puppet.

"I'm thirsty and I need to use the bathroom."

Michael walked in on them while Valentino was crouched over Winnie, "What the hell you think you're doing stupid?"

Valentino looked at his brother with fear in his child's eyes. "I was just asking if she was ok."

"And of course she said she was not. When are you going to get it into your thick head that she's playing you." Valentino scrambled away.

Michael sat on the chair, cross one leg over the other. Winnie noticed the shoes as he swing his foot back and forth. Rockport. Spike has the same pair. She gazed up at him, observing. His manicured fingers were steepled together, his face tilted to the left, eyes were closed as if in deep thought. She thought that would be how he'd appeared during board meetings. When he opened his eyes, the stare that lasered on her was steely and cold. And when he opened his mouth, it was to assert his authority. "Don't play my brother."

He stood up and walked around. Pacing back and forth, soon he was yelling his brother's name, "Val! Val."

The twin came out running from a back room. "I'm going out for a bit. Watch her." Valentino nodded dumbly. "And no talking!"

They heard the car start and the engine prowl away. "Can I have water please?" Winnie asked.

"Ok."

Valentino returned with a glass, it looked filthy but either she drank it or die of dehydration. She sipped the water slowly. In her mind were words that became integral in her life. Connect. Respect. Protect. She gave Val a genuine smile.

"Val, tell me about yourself."

"We shouldn't be talking," he said.

"Michael won't know. It's just the two of us." Val remained silent. He seemed to be weighing up the situation between him and Winnie. She didn't press him.

She was a five-year veteran of the SRU despatch desk before moving into the world of forensics. Sgt Parker was Toronto's elite police squad best crisis negotiator. She heard first-hand accounts of his negotiations. Absorbing his wisdom like sponge. Learning from the best. And when she wasn't there, she listened to the recordings when she could find the time.

She harkened back to Sgt Parker's wisdom. She thought she was seeing for herself the effect of long-term subjugation, of the person's free will no longer his own. The Boss once said that it wasn't the negotiator's agenda to destroy a person's belief system. It was about showing him another option. Another way. Perhaps, if she could reach him, Valentino could be her way out. She observed him silently_. I'll try again later. _With Valentino, it wasn't black and white.

The minute the car moved the GPS locator indicated to Spike the car's starting point, which could possibly be where Winnie was being held. He watched the 'worm' move on his computer screen, the software would logged distance, travel time, and location. So he left it be and re-focused on his reading.

A few minutes later, his phone beeped, he answered it quickly, "Paul."

"Spike, you're right, his full name is Valentino Piper. Born Feb 14 1970, Austin Texas." _Bingo!_

"I just emailed you a list of felonies. In the early days… as a juvy, he used to get hauled in with a Michael Piper."

"Thanks Paul. Give my love to Suzie and the kids."

"You guys better turn up one day, not just on birthdays."

"Will do, soon as…" Fobbing off Paul was out of the question, he was one of the sharpest tools in the toolbox so he spent a few more minutes in friendly banter with the Cybercrime Guru to avoid raising a red flag.

He continued reading the file. Spike noted something from a report written by Piper's prison psychologist, written in bold letters, **Genius with strong sociopathic tendency**. His I.Q. measurement wasn't far off Spike's. M.P. didn't get a university degree from an institution of learning, he got it from the school of hard knocks. And he got honours in spades.

Scarlatti sighed. Michael Piper wasn't going to be easy. He would be Dr Moriarty to Spike's Sherlock Holmes. But while Michael had Valentino for Dr Watson, he has Winnie. On that count, he has no doubt who has the edge.

He looked at the clock, two hours to go…. He couldn't dilly dally anymore. He called two friends, ones he trusted with his life, they both said they would be there in "15." While he waited, Spike loosened his tight muscles, stretched and flexed his aching limbs and thought of a game plan.

Meanwhile, the criminal genius had also downloaded a virus into Spike's phone. Yes, indeed Michael was not going to be easy.

Two brilliant minds pitted against each other. And only one would come up on top!

In the end, only one will breathe easy.


	16. Connect, Respect, Protect

_Author's Note: Spike and Winnie spend a year in Quantico in the multi-story, "The Long shadow of..."_

_**Tissue alert!**_

**Connect, Respect, Protect**

Winnie laid in a foetal position to ease the cramping in her belly but it was killing her back and her shoulders. She tossed and turned as much as she could manage within the limited range she could move. The cuff rubbed against the skin each time she shifted position, causing her wrist to blister. She couldn't decide which hurt more; her head, her back, her belly, her shoulders, her wrist, or her heart_. Definitely my heart._

She thought of Spike being worried to death; of Liley who was dead and Moppet who maybe dead or dying. And of the baby she just lost. She didn't want to cry but she was in such a state that if she didn't, she would likely die an untimely death from a broken heart.

Valentino came over, touched her arm lightly which made her flinch. "I just want to know if you're ok," he said.

Her aching limbs protesting, she slowly sat up, dried her tears and said, "Thank you". She swallowed. Her mouth and throat felt like sandpaper, her teeth gritty, "Tell me Val… tell me something about yourself. It will help me not feel so much pain if we talk."

"What do you want to know?" he replied as he sat cross-legged in front of her. Sitting so close to her he looked like a trusting child, not the man who could murder or kidnap or rape.

"Did you kill Thomas? Did you shot him?"

Val smiled, "Yeah, I did. I'm a better shot than Michael. He asked me to, he said that man was a bad, bad man. He needed to be killed."

"Is that what he told you? Val…" she paused and pondered what to say next. She knew she had to be careful, "Thomas wasn't a bad man. He was a good man. He was an accountant. Do you know what an accountant is?"

Val shook his head sideways; _accountant_ was beyond the realm of his understanding, beyond the scope of his limited vocabulary. "No, but Mike said he was a bad man."

"Do you always do what he says?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"'Cause he looks after me. We have each other's back," upon hearing this she felt very, very sad for Val. She wanted to say to him_, No, he doesn't have your back. He's using you. He's not looking after you. _It took massive self-control not to blurt that out. Michael Piper was the only one Val trusted and if she dared break that bond the backlash could be lethal.

Val looked at her closely, scrutinising her. Her features, her eyes, her lips. He smiled. "I watched you with my scope. You were trying to save them. I fell in love with you," he said with childlike boldness. The revelation made Winnie cringed inwardly.

"I watched until I couldn't see you anymore."

"How did you know where I live?"

Val slapped his thigh, delighted with himself, "I'm so clever. The TV said you work for the City's Crime lab so I went there and waited for you. You passed me by every day and you were always shy. You never looked at me." She just never noticed him, honest to God, she just never took any notice of who may be following her or stalking her. "Michael didn't know I was gone that night." He whispered to her conspiratorially, "I borrowed his car, and he never found out."

"Did you put a bug in my house?"

"Yeah, I did. I'm clever that way. Clever with my hands."

"Was Michael angry with you when he found out what you did?"

"Yeah he was. But he forgave me when he heard you talking to your dog. It's a beautiful dog even if it was disabled." _Disabled!_ She wanted to scratch his face. She took several deep breaths, "Her name is Moppet. And she's beautiful. You'd be surprised, she's not disabled. In fact, she's very able. She could do everything a dog could do. She's much like you. You're not stupid… you're actually clever. You're more clever than Michael gives you credit for."

Val searched her eyes, trying to determine as much as he could in his limited 'other human contact' if she was playing him. She looked sincere, "Thank you," he said.

"Val, tell me, does Michael hurt you?" Val didn't answer, not verbally, but the body language was enough to confirm what she suspected. His facial muscles tensed, defensive; he looked down at his hand as it doodled absent-mindedly on the thick dust that has accumulated on the floor. She sensed it was a sensitive topic so she changed tack.

"Why did you come to Canada?" she asked as she shifted position again.

"Oh, when my father died, Michael thought it was time to leave the U.S. of A."

"Did you leave because your Dad died or because police were looking for Michael?"

Val looked at her darkly, "The police were always chasing us for no reason. Always picking on us." He looked away and then said, "Yeah… that too."

It was another sensitive topic so she shifted the conversation again, "Valentino, that's an interesting name."

He beamed at her. "Yeah, you like my name? My parents were having twins but they didn't know what they were having. They wanted a girl and a boy. They decided Michael would be perfect for a boy and they wanted to name the girl, Valentine because my Mom went into labour on Valentine's Day. But I'm not a girl so they called me Valentino."

She wanted to talk more but by now she was in extreme agony. "Val, can you take me to the toilet? Is there one here?"

He stiffened, "I'm not allowed to remove your cuff."

In laboured breathing she said, "You've got a gun, use it if I try to escape. As you can see, with my condition, I wouldn't be able to go very far if I tried."

Val hesitated. He didn't know what time Michael would return and if he found out that he disobeyed his firm instruction there would be hell to pay. "Please," Winnie pleaded. "Please."

"Ok, but you must be quick." He removed her cuff and assisted her to the toilet. Her stomach turned as they got closer to the make-shift lavatory. It was filthy. Stinky would be an understatement but at least there was running water. If only she could stop herself gagging to death. But she had no choice, she could feel her underpants filling with blood and the discomfort was agonising.

She closed the door, Val stood outside to keep watch, his M14 rifle on hand. She removed her jogging pants and her underpants and washed it under running water. She noticed the lumpy, clotty blood which she knew was discarded baby tissue. Crying her heart out was all she could do. She braced herself against the wall so as not to collapse on the dirty floor. She sobbed and called Spike's name. The volume of her sobbing turned up to a wail, "Ahh… ahh… please come get me."

Val heard her anguished cry, was tempted to open the door to check on her but thankfully decided against it. Instead he called out, "Are you ready? Mike will be back soon."

She stopped her crying, hiccupping, she replied, "Coming out soon."

She wrung her underpants to get as much of the water out before putting it back on, it was old against her skin but at least it no longer felt icky. She put her jogging pants back on, splashed her face with water and drank from her hands which were cleaner than the glass Val offered her.

When they came out, Val assisted her back next to the water pipe. "I need some fresh air, could you cuff me to the window please? " Val thought about it and said, "Only for a while, Mike won't like it." She smiled, "Thanks."

Meantime, Constable Leah Kearns and Sam Braddock arrived at the Scarlatti's in "15". The blonde ex-Special Forces was surprised to bump into Leah on the street just outside the residence, "Hey, what's up?"

"I was gonna ask you the same thing," she said. "I supposed we will find out soon." The door opened before they could knock. _So Spike was waiting for them._

"Hi…" Spike put a finger to his lips, and mimed a slashing motion against his throat, _**silence**_. He held up a hastily written note that said, "bug." The two constables nodded, Spike led them to The Grotto which was a revelation, as none of them has been inside a "painting" before.

Once inside, Spike played the video feed to Sam and Leah; all the while, keeping a finger against his lips. Leah and Sam internalised their horror! Not a sound. Not a word!

Spike has come to the conclusion that Michael was a computer hacker, too. Belle was very careful, she said so herself. She was very careful and only communicated with Thomas Andrews-Bergen in secret and in code but she was still found out. _How? _ He concluded it could only mean one thing: he was up against an evil brainaic. In fact, if he was a betting man, he was certain his phones were no longer sterile, while waiting for his friends he run a diagnostics software and found malware in both his phones. He wisely used a brand new, burnt phone to call Sam and Leah. He didn't scrub the malware, to do so would be to send an alert to M.P. that he was aware.

"What can we do?" Leah mouthed silently, concerned. She considered Winnie, dainty. Protected and sheltered. Not like her or Jules who were toughened in the crucible of battles and used to head butting with the male of the species. _But Winnie? She's a darling_.

Spike passed his phone to Leah with a note, Leah read it with her eyes only. "_He'll call me with instructions. When the call comes, forward it to this number. Go to the Crime Lab, make him think I'm running around doing his bidding. He's tracking me. He downloaded a virus in it. He's also using it as a listening device so every now and then, press play…._" He handed her a recorder with his voice pre-recorded on it.

Spike turned to Sam and handed him a whole heap of files with a single note, "_Take to Military intelligence. Secret uranium sale. __**INVOKE**__ National Security Act. Priority. No direct evidence. Only accounting forensics – needs best mind to unravel more secrets." _Sam Braddock, the go-to man when your back was against the wall, nodded at Spike, his opal blue eyes flashing. He gave the Techie a thumbs up sign and away he went.

Leah hugged Spike and whispered, "We're gonna get her back."

Spike replied, in a whisper, "I can't lose her. If you don't hear from me in exactly two hours, send Team Three to this address," he slipped the coordinates to Leah. The location where M.P.'s car moved from, hoping it was where Winnie was stashed away.

When Leah departed, he uttered a prayer of thanksgiving. Team One was scheduled for graveyard shift today, thank God or he really didn't know who else to call.

Michael was at his office, the only one around being a Saturday. With all the modern computing equipment at his disposal, secured and bug-free, he confidently checked on his Swiss account. It triggered an alert half-way around the world. Belle's last act of defiance before she went into hiding was to put a hard-to-detect bug in Michael's computer.

After 15 hours of non-stop flying, Belle has now landed in Changi Airport, Singapore. It's one of the best buildings in the world for sophisticated computing. It has fast wi-fi capability, superb fibre optic connectivity, freely available high speed processor computers for passengers to use in the length and breadth of the Airport. She logged in to her secret account and ping Michael's office computer instantly. She glanced at the clock, she had to act fast to make sure she gets to board her connecting flight to Brisbane. All three brainaics were frantically moving about, fingers flying on the keyboard, mental stimuli jumping from neurons to neurons.

Belle's flight was announced, she hurriedly logged out, hefted her backpack, moved two steps away from the screen, turned back just to double-checked she was _really_ logged out. She was! She ran like hell to board.

Spike had just completed sending three coded messages; one to CSIS, another to Quantico where he stayed and learned for a year; and to Bryce Cameron, Australian black operative.

That done, with an hour to go, he opened his safe and selected a weapon. He called a taxi cab to take him. There was no way he would risk worrying where to stash a vehicle. He wanted to be dropped off as close to it as possible and for the driver to go away as fast as possible.

He was at the location within half an hour… using a Leica HD binocular, he scoped the dilapidated buildings around him. His heart skipped when he saw Winnie's form standing next to the window. Both her wrists were cuffed. She was resting her head on her forearm against the window's iron frame where glass used to be.

He needed to get her attention. He pulled a small mirror from his pocket, used it to send a signal, the reflective glare hit her eyes, which startled her. She looked up. In Morse code was a message, "I love you."

She closed her eyes, relieved and grateful. She used her fingers to reply back, "Luv U."

Someone, a trained survivalist was watching the two of them communicate; someone who knew Morse code as instinctively as they knew it. He looked thoughtful. He chambered a bullet!

The hunt was on!


	17. Snare a Hunter

**Snare a Hunter**

Michael glanced at the electronic device next to him; "Spike" was driving off towards the Crime Lab. He checked the time, less than an hour to go.

Leah drove single-mindedly, without breathing a word, until she merged into heavy traffic on the main road then she pressed play on the recorder, and set it next to Spike's phones. The Techie's voice played clearly saying, "Come on, get out of my way."

Michael leaned back on his executive swivel chair, put his feet up on his desk to enjoy Spike's frustration, "Come on, bloody hell, move it." Leah got into the spirit of the deception and thumped her steering wheel for effect. The sound of Leah beating up her car made Michael cackle evilly.

Then there was silence even as the tape continued to play. Leah didn't know what else Spike recorded, she'll just have to roll with it. _It's gonna be one hell of an improvisation_. She concentrated on the traffic with one ear peeled on the recorder. The quiet was disconcerting so she opened the window, the traffic noise supplied authenticity to the deception. It was 10 minutes before another sound recording came on...Spike was "talking" on the phone to someone and his bit of the conversation went like this...

"Anton..."

"I'm heading to Winnie's Lab... yeah"

"By the way, Thomas' phone? Who's analysing that?"

"I can help... use me as an outside resource. They haven't cracked the encryption? Can I give it a try?

"You sure? Great! I'll be there, oh, in about 10 minutes. Great, just leave words with the guys, ok?"

"Winnie? She's fine. Out jogging. Yeah, I'll let her know."

In a secret location, in the City, Sam met with Military Intelligence liaison to hand over the documents. "Secret uranium sales?" the uniformed military officer said in disbelief.

"And your name, sir."

"Samuel Braddock, Constable."

"Any relation to General Braddock."

Sam smiled, the officer smiled. "Must be the son, same smile."

Braddock said, "I gotta go. Remember that's priority. Code red." Before the Military Officer could ask him any more questions, Sam made a hasty retreat. Hell, he didn't know what it was all about and wasn't about to put himself in a spot of bother and embarrass himself in the process.

But since the documents were delivered in person by a man of solid reputation and from a strong military lineage, there was no reason to doubt the veracity of the files. The wheels turned fast! Before anyone could blink, a troop of analysts were ordered to get cracking on it.

Spike has been on site for more than half an hour, he has found his wife and has communicated with her briefly. When Winnie turned around expecting to see Val behind her, he wasn't there. _How long has he been gone?_ Call it sixth sense! The hair on her back stood, followed by a strong sense of foreboding.

She signaled to Spike, V A L. He instinctively knew what she was saying. He ducked down to make himself a smaller target. Scoping the surrounding buildings he tried to find the sniper's lair. Spike knew it was just be a matter of time before he was spotted, if he doesn't find Val first.

Val had gone up to the roof to check out the surrounding area like he's been taught in survival camp. He was up there when the reflective glare from Spike's mirror caught his attention. Using his scope, he watched Winnie reply to Spike. He didn't like it one little bit. Winnie was his, she was promised to him. The trained sniper got into position.

Precisely four hours after the video feed, Michael sent Spike the hand-over instruction. Leah opened the email which was no doubt sent from a spoofed IP address, she forwarded it to Spike's burnt phone. The message was plain and simple: _Deliver files and phone to this coordinates in one hour and I'll give you your wife back, promise (smiley). Oh, don't bother trying to trace the origin of this message. Waste of time._

Leah read it again and said to herself, "Yeah, right. And pigs can fly." Leah drove straight to SRU HQ to huddle with Sgt Donna Sabine. The advance briefing would prove to be a life-saver.

Spike heard his phone beeped. He read the message and checked the coordinates he was supplied, it was an address in the opposite part of town, which means, Michael wasn't here. But he still couldn't be sure Val was alone, which was good, because Val called Michael. Yet, in one sense it was a good thing, as the sniper pulled the phone out of his pocket, he accidentally bumped into his M14 rifle, the slight movement was enough for Spike to catch a glimpse as the scope glinted in the sun exposing his position. The Constable duck-paddled towards the building, maintaining a low profile. Once he reached the side of the building he climbed up to the roof using a rusty fire escape ladder.

The evil twin was hurrying to meet Spike in another part of town when his annoying stupid twin called, "Spike's here" he said excitedly. His nerves jumping.

"Don't be stupid. I'm tracking him, he's at the..." and then it dawned on him... then he laughed and laughed and laughed. "Smart boy. Smart boy." Breathlessly, he told his twin he's on his way back. _A worthy adversary_, he thought gleefully. _A worthy adversary indeed, more fun and games for me._

Winnie was beside herself with worry. Val was a sharp-shooter and he's got his M14 rifle with him. She sent herself in a spiraling panic as she imagined the worse.

Spike reached the roof and spotted Val in position, still searching for him on the ground. He needed to hit Val with stealth. Gun was never his first option. He crouched down low, his eyes caught on a piece of hardwood and an old bicycle rubber tube truant kids must have left behind. An idea formed in his head.

He quickly fashioned a crude Y-shape out of the hardwood using his Swiss Army knife, he cut the tube into a long strip and made himself a slingshot. He kept an eye on Val who was increasingly alarmed at his inability to find him. He could "read" the sniper's agitation. The stroking of his hair, the repeated wiping of his face, rubbing his eyes. Spike smiled to himself, even the best sniper couldn't hit a target at that agitated state.

_It takes one to know one. _ Just by observation, Spike knew Val was not at his sharpest. Breath control is of the utmost importance for a sniper. The movement made by the expansion and contraction of the chest cavity during a shot could easily throw a sniper's aim off. For a marksman to hit a target, he is required to stop breathing during the natural pause between inhalation and exhalation. The natural pause between breaths is usually two or three seconds long; a trained sniper can extend this pause to ten seconds. Firing occurs during this forced pause, when the diaphragm and breathing muscles are relaxed. If the sniper does not settle enough to make his shot, the relaxation process is repeated. _At the rate he's going,_ Spike observed, _it'll be a while yet._

His crude slingshot was ready. Spike stealthily moved about to look for something solid to use. He has one shot at this. And only one shot! Miss and it's game over. He found a fairly big rusty hexagonal bolt. Spike knelt on one knee, drew the rubber tube back as far as it would go to provide power for the projectile, using the same sniper technique, he fired!

The bolt flew in the air, noiselessly, and without warning it hit Val on the side of the head. The impact was such that it rendered Val instantly unconscious. Spike hurried over, using the same tube and Y shaped hardwood, he tied Val's hands to his feet, hog-tied, he wasn't going anywhere. He stuffed a handkerchief in his mouth, grabbed the M14 rifle and ran to get Winnie.

He was running downstairs when Michael arrived. Winnie wasn't able to warn him, she was unconscious.


	18. Full Metal Jacket

**Full Metal Jacket**

Spike thought the worse as he saw Winnie's unmoving form cuffed to the window, her head lolled to one side. He hurtled down the stairs. "Win…" he cooed in her ear as he checked for a pulse. It was there, it was faint. He quickly, with steady hands, unlocked the cuff that held her bound against her will.

His undivided attention focused solely on his beloved, he didn't sense the approach of Michael Piper. His last conscious memory was of his body contorting and convulsing as the Taser's electrical discharge caused his body to go into spasms.

Taser gun works by disrupting the nervous system, which is essentially an organic electricity grid. This disruption is called neuromuscular incapacitation (NMI). Stunned, Spike brain's electric signals experienced a failure to reach and control his body muscles, with the overall effect of being involuntarily immobilized and incapacitated. The initial sensation was extreme pain, excruciating, like he was punched all over his body in one massive hit. It turned into an alarming condition of muscle spasms and confusion. He fell to the ground screaming unintelligibly.

Michael didn't intend to be kind. It wasn't part of his emotional vocabulary. He continued to taser Spike until he lost consciousness.

When he came to, it felt as if his whole body was on fire. Every sinew, every fibre of his being hurt like hell. His arms were tied to the overhead water pipe, his feet slightly off the ground. He supported himself on tip-toe to prevent the muscle of his biceps and triceps tearing, the effect was that it caused his leg muscles to cramp. His brain slowly kicked into gear. He looked down on himself and was alarmed that he was topless, but at least he still has his pants on, which was a total relief. He didn't know how long he was 'out' but Winnie was still unconscious, lying on the ground face down.

Michael returned shortly with a bucket of water, he smiled at the Constable who was still in his SRU uniform having forgotten to change since he left Team Four to their own devices. The sociopath tilted his head, looked him up and down and made a creepy comment, "You're sexy you know." He followed this up with a lewd gesture of stroking his genitals. Spike closed his eyes and tried to think, hell, it was agony just trying to remember to breathe.

He became outraged when Michael unceremoniously tipped the bucket of water on Winnie, despite his own predicament, he screamed at the top of his lungs, "What the hell are you doing?", the exertion compounding and exacerbating his physical pain. Win didn't move an inch. "You're watching too many movies," hissed Spike.

Michael turned to him, and leered, "You can't fault of a man for trying, could you? There's no point doing what I intend to do to you without a live audience, it's not much fun."

"Bastard!"

"Is that all you can say to me? I can think of much worse… deviant. Demonic. Asshole." He repeated "asshole" and laughed lasciviously. "I think you're gonna be the asshole this time." Spike's soul was tortured at the hint of male rape but it would not come to that, he determined in himself, at the very least, he could make it the worse experience of Michael's miserable life.

"You know I always liked the idea of having sex with a man in uniform… so thank you…" he said, "For obliging me."

Team Three mobilised.

At the given time, they moved to the coordinates Leah provided, "I'd like to ride shot gun," Constable Kearns offered. Sgt Donna Sabine agreed, "But stay out of our way, ok."

"Trust me, I plan to."

The two women drove together in the first vehicle, siren and lights blazing. With a kilometre to go, Sabine ordered for siren and lights to be turned off. They need to approach this carefully. With a bino, Sabine spotted Michael's car. They disembarked and hastily convened to discuss a tactical approach.

Michael circled Spike tracing a finger along his body, admiring the hardness of the Constable's body. Spike didn't give him the pleasure of sensing fear. He regulated his breathing as best he could; it took the Master Yogi in him to do it. Yoga was a discipline of the mind he adhered to for inner peace, since Lou's death, it had become a life-long practice.

Unbeknown to them Winnie has regained consciousness but her head was throbbing, as if someone was inside her head drumming. The M14 rifle was just there on the ground in her direct line of sight. She took a silent deep breathe, trying to ignore the conversation between Spike and Michael. Trying to tune it out because it was all she could do not to scream obscenity at the sub-human who has her husband.

When she was certain that she could stand up without falling down again, she gathered her wits about her, reached for the rifle and stood up slowly, using the weapon as leverage.

"Leave him alone," she said with steely eyes, breathing fire. Her vision tunneled to a singular goal - the elimination of Michael Piper. Adrenaline pumped into her in massive dose.

Michael laughed uproariously. He stood in front of Spike, he said confidently, "In case you're forgetting that's armed with full metal jackets. You fire, you hit me, it passes through me, I survive and he's dead. Bullet stops with him."

"Go ahead." He taunted Winnie. "What are you waiting for? Pull the trigger if you dare."

Winnie didn't fire but she checked that a bullet was chambered. She moved closer to Michael, which was totally unexpected. "You wanna get closer? You wanna get up close and personal? Unbelievable."

Spike didn't know what Win had in mind, but _Whatever that is darling, please don't shoot me._

Winnie advanced, her face grimly set, her eyes locked on to Michael who for the first time flinched, he felt a slight rise in his pulse. _What are you up to, bitch?_

Team Three reached the perimeter, "James, Sierra One." James didn't wait to be told how to suck eggs. He went away to find a good vantage point to scope the surrounding area.

"Toby, Sierra Two." The constable went in the other direction to provide Team Three a wider scope.

"We wait here until we hear from James or Toby. Sooner or later, they'd spot something."

Winnie continued to advance until she was no further than a foot from Michael, at this distance she was fairly confident she couldn't possibly miss. She put her dominant right foot forward, bent her knees slightly to absorb the recoil, lowered the rifle and fired! "That's for Liley," she said.

They all heard the first shot. "Team, go, go, go." Sgt Donna Sabine led the rest of her team towards the building where the first shot rang out.

Michael screamed the scream of the dying. She fired into his right foot's metatarsal. The full metal jacket bullet was so powerful it shattered the whole foot and the bullet embedded into the concrete floor. On the ground, crippled, Michael writhe in pain. Winnie advanced towards him, pointed the rifle at his right knee-cap and fired. The knee cap was blown to smithereens. "That's for Moppet."

"Team, go, go, go." The second shot prompted Team Three to really leg it. James and Toby reached the roof of adjoining building.

The sociopath let out an agonising scream; clearly Winnie had no intention of killing him. She was going to disable him instead. She advanced, pointed the rifle on his right collar bone, and said with not a hint of idle threat, "I swear to you, you will never ever hurt anyone ever again." She fired and blasted the collar bone. "That's for my husband."

"In position," said James, he scoped the building across from his perch and was shocked at what he was seeing, "Boss, Winnie has the gun."

Sabine stopped, "Repeat."

"Winnie has the M14."

They all heard it. Lumps the size of rocks grew in their throat. Sabine instructed evenly, "Copy that! Team, proceed with caution."

James set his cross hairs on Winnie, his finger on the trigger and a prayer in his heart, "Fuck Winnie don't make me do this." She aimed at Michael's head, James aimed at Winnie's. The SRU sniper could barely believe what he was about to do.

Spike feared the worse. "No, no…. Win, look at me. Look at me." She appeared not to be listening, she chambered another bullet. All she could think of now was her baby.

Spike lost it, "Please, please think of me. Please." She looked at Spike, tears streaming down his face, "Please don't." She snapped out of her trance, dropped the rifle and went over to hug her husband. She sobbed unto his chest, barely believing they were both alive after such a terrifying ordeal.

It was all Michael was waiting for; with his less dominant left arm, he raised the rifle and took aim at the couple, he thought, with psychopathic intent_, Full metal jacket_, o_ne for two_.

Then a shot rang out!

Winnie fell to the ground unconscious! Followed by an earth-moving scream from Spike, "No, no…."


	19. Fighting for Sanity

_A small box of tissue alert!_

**Fighting for Sanity**

Michael, fuelled by surging adrenaline, leaned on his good arm as he clutched the rifle. Using his last ounce of strength as consciousness started to ebb away he raised the weapon intent to kill Mr and Mrs Scarlatti with one bullet. At that close proximity, he couldn't possibly miss. This fact was clear to James; without hesitation, with steady nerves and a heart rate down to 60 beats per minute, James pulled the trigger and hit Michael on the side of the head cleanly.

Spike assumed the worst… the simultaneous sound of gunfire and Winnie's sudden loss of consciousness. He was beside himself. Still tied to the water pipe and unable to get to his wife, the emotional strain was unbearable. He was screaming and crying his lungs out, thrashing about like a man possessed.

Leah Kearns who promised to stay out of Team Three's way was, until that point. She bolted out the SUV to rush by her friends' side.

Sgt Donna Sabine and the rest of her team reached the crime scene. She didn't know what to expect until James said, "It's not Winnie, Boss." T3's Boss knelt down beside Winnie to feel for a pulse, it was there but it was faint. She got back up to attend to Spike, "She's alive, Spike. She's alive. She just fainted."

A team member cut Spike down; he dropped to the floor like a tonne of bricks to cradle his wife's head. Leah reached the scene and feared the worse. Seeing Spike cradling Winnie's head was all too much, she became light-headed and swooned. One SRU caught her, sat her down, smiled and said, "It's not her. It's the bastard." The relief on Leah's face was priceless. She opened her mouth, rapidly breathed in and out. Right that moment, all she needed was to get oxygen in her.

"We need medic, NOW!"

Peter who was on despatch duty at HQ announced, "Boss, EMS en route, ETA 2 minutes."

"Copy that," Sabine whispered the information in Spike's ears, "Two minutes." It was immaterial. Spike was focused on his wife. Winnie's breathing was shallow. She went about the business of saving them both on pure adrenaline. The hormonal surge heightened her 'danger' awareness and increased her respiration. She reacted to the danger; the adrenal glands produced a large dose of hormones, increasing physical performance for short bursts of time. When the danger passed, light-headedness followed suit.

He stroked her hair, thinking she probably hasn't had food or water for as long as she's been held captive, not to mention the stress and the physical beating she had received earlier. He gently passed a finger along her right cheek where bruising was severe. He also noticed earlier that she had a slight limp. _Poor, poor girl_.

Leah hovered over them protectively, not permitting anyone, especially the detectives who have arrived in droves to interview Spike. "You guys can wait," she said sternly. They concluded, rightly, that the female constable didn't put up with bullshit so none dared to argue with her. They'd have to be suicidal to try.

Donna Sabine and her team busied themselves with mopping up the operation, her Comm link came alive with another news, "Boss, found another one on the roof, hog-tied."

"Bundle him off to the detectives," she said.

"Copy that."

EMS arrived to take Winnie to the hospital. Leah handed Spike his shirt back (_to hell with crime scene evidence_) and gave him a warm comforting hug, "I'll let the Boss know," she said. He thanked her and acknowledged Team Three before boarding the ambulance.

He was left in the hospital waiting room, along with a couple of dozen others waiting for news on their loved ones. The surrounding could only be described as depressing. The smell of medication and sanitiser was pervasive; the colour, drab and the silence, deafening and oppressive: the silence of fear and anxiety, of wishful thinking, of prayers and hope.

When he remembered Moppet, he phoned the pet hospital and received the good news that she made it through the emergency surgical procedure. A silver lining!

"Charlie Lewis' dog, Pea Nuts… how is he?"

"He's good. Stable and doing well," answered the Vet assistant. He exhaled. Another silver lining!

He slouched on an uncomfortable seat reserved for visitors. A passing nurse took pity on him and gave him a bottle of water. He went to the in-house dispensary and bought a packet of over-the-counter pain reliever, popped two in his mouth and dry swallowed them. Three hours later a physician came out to speak with him, "Constable Scarlatti?"

"I prefer Spike," he said with a tired smile.

"Spike, let's talk in my office." The doctor led the way; his eyebrows went up to the ceiling when he read the sign on the door, Dr Elizabeth Alcala, OB/GYN. Alarm bells rang in his head.

"Can I offer you anything? Coffee, tea?" Now, he was really worried.

"No, thanks…. What's… ah… wrong with my wife?" he asked tentatively.

The 20-year veteran medic looked on him with compassion; there really was no easy way to tell anyone they've lost a baby, no matter how early along the pregnancy. All she could do was be straight-forward in the gentlest of way, "She had a miscarriage," she said softly.

Spike stared at her, unable to comprehend what he just heard. "Miscarriage?" The gynaecologist nodded sympathetically, adding, "It was early days… very early… my calculation would be around five weeks."

"We were pregnant?" he said. He closed his eyes, "She never told me."

"She suspected when she missed her period last week. As I said it was very, very early. She was waiting to confirm it before telling you." She paused to let him absorb the news. "You'd be surprised… nearly 50% of all pregnancies miscarry in the early days. A lot of women miscarry without even knowing they were pregnant. She just happened to know… instinctively and I think it's because she really wanted this baby." The doctor fell silent, leaving Spike to digest the information, his shock was very tangible. She got up to get a glass of water for him.

When she returned, she simply said, "Do you have any questions for me?"

"What do we do now?"

"She has to rest… that's all, and painkillers to help with the cramping. She has a spontaneous miscarriage. She's healthy. There's nothing wrong with her. That's nothing to suggest you can't get pregnant anytime you're ready. These things happen."

Dr Alcala continued, "I think she'll have more to deal with emotionally and psychologically, than physiologically, if you get what I mean. I have a sense she's blaming herself for the loss of the baby. Believe me… miscarriage is more common than we think. The stress she was under… may or may not have caused it."

"What about you?" she said, "How are you?"

The kind query pressed a button in Spike. He clasped his hands together and rested his forehead on it, rocking himself gently he struggled to control the surging feeling of loss and grief. When he gathered himself together, he looked up and said, "Thanks for asking." He was glad she asked about him. He didn't want this miscarriage to be her issue alone, it was their issue together.

"I'm upset," he said truthfully.

"That's understandable… it's your baby, too."

"Is it ok to cry?' he said, almost embarrassed.

"Sure. I had a Marine here the other day bawling his eyes out. Not to mention a bouncer, a fire fighter, a boxer. No one's immune," she said with compassion. "Stay as long as you need to… I have other patients to see." Spike nodded. The doctor gave his shoulder a squeeze on her way out.

He stayed until he was all cried out. He'd like to be sort of, or somewhat, emotionally together before he visited with Winnie. She was awake now and as expected inconsolable. She cried into his hands; he on her head. "I'm sorry," she kept saying. "I'm so sorry."

He gently stroked her head, "Not your fault. These things happen."

When they were both all cried out, Spike told her the good news about Moppet. "She's gonna make it. She pulled for us, we gotta pull for her, too," he said. Winnie nodded.

"Can I go home now?" she said. "I can't stay here. I don't want to."

"I'll speak to Dr Alcala, see if you can be discharged. Try to rest, I'll be right back."

Spike sought the kind doctor to get Winnie discharged; then he called Sgt Ed Lane to ask for compassionate leave. "Leave it with me, I'll arranged it," Lane said. He understood better than most, their family had a scare with three-year old Izzy. She was a hard pregnancy and a hard delivery, the Lanes could easily have lost her along the way.

The doctor gave the ok and a whole heap of brochures to take home to read, "If she experiences a lot of bleeding, you have to bring her back."

"Define lots of bleeding," he asked sincerely.

The doctor smiled, "The general rule is if a woman is soaking through a menstrual pad in under an hour that she should be admitted to emergency." Spike nodded.

He made all the arrangement to get her home. Once settled in bed, he asked if she wanted her parents. She said, "Yes." Spike made another tough call.

Though exhausted, he made another act of love. He lit aromatherapy candles and placed them in their bedroom. The mixed scent of lavender and Ylang Ylang permeated the air, he hoped it would boost Winnie's flagging spirit. "Thank you," she said. "Come lay down with me." They snuggle-cuddled until Winnie's parents arrive.

Spike fell asleep on the couch as her parents visited with Winnie. When she came out of the bedroom, Winifreda Camden looked upon her son-in-law's sleeping form, grateful for the care and love he so generously lavished on her daughter. No mother could ask for more.

John Camden came out, placed a loving arm around his wife, looked at his son-in-law and was grateful for the protection and provision he so lovingly lavished on his daughter. No father could ask for more.

The Camdens silently went about the business of looking after Spike and Winnie, they cooked dinner and determined to wait on them til they regained their strength.

Spike woke up with a start, a little disorientated. His chest felt tight, he's had this feeling before. Soon after Lou's untimely passing; and later his Dad. _Breathe in, breathe out_, he coaxed himself. He did this until his normal breathing pattern returned.

"Good, you're awake." He turned to find his father-in-law dressed in his pajamas. "Hungry?"

"Yes, actually. Sorry I fell asleep, you should have roused me."

"Don't be silly. You were exhausted. And besides Winnie's sleeping too."

"How is she?"

"Better now. Her Mom has a way with her."

Spike nodded gratefully. He went to check on Winnie, his mother-in-law was in bed with her, he could only mumble, "Thanks Mom" and went back to the kitchen. He was famished.

John put a hand on his shoulder, "If you need me, I'm in the bedroom closest to the toilet. At my age, I need to be near it," he said in an attempt at humour, which was appreciated. Spike had no doubt that the offer to talk was sincere, he smiled and said, "Thanks."

He ate and fell asleep again – at the dining table this time. That's where Winnie found him in the morning. She kissed the top of his head and murmured, "I love you."

He mumbled, "I heard that." He pulled her close and said, "Ti amo, bella." She led him back to their bedroom, she felt they needed to reclaim their home and they'd have to start in the room where they consummate their love for one another. There they laid peacefully, listening to each other's heartbeat. Hopefully soon, the sound of dogs barking and a baby squealing would fill their space.

For now, they have to be content just to have each other.


	20. A Road Trip to Healing

_Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Michelle Inman and to the beautiful people who founded and run the Wild Heart Ranch; and to all the volunteers who keep it going. A genuinely wonderful organisation that offers healing to all wounded animals. They need our help... please extend any support you can._

**A Road Trip to Healing**

Belle woke up just as the pilot was instructing passengers to fasten their seat belts. Flight attendants were walking up and down the aisle collecting rubbish, making sure everyone were seated upright, all electronic gadgets were off and all the window shades were up. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She couldn't believe she's been flying since Friday late afternoon. _It better be worth it._

She's lost half a day, the time difference between Toronto and Brisbane being 15 hours. The pilot announced that the weather in Brisbane was overcast with a day time temperature of 20 degree celsius. Odd, she thought, for it to be so mild, then it dawned on her that the Northern summer was the Southern winter. But being subtropical, Queensland has mild dry winters. _Pity I won't see much of it. _She took her train ticket out and nearly passed out when she saw the travel time. Depart 9am Sunday from Roma St, Brisbane and arrive Monday, 4:15pm. _My God, where in God's name is Cairns? _ _And to think that's not even my final destination. This is insane, I swear to God I will kill him. _At Singapore, she Googled Cairns and discovered there were direct Singapore-Cairns air services so she didn't understand the need for the broken itinerary. Surely it was just to annoy the hell out of her,"Grrr!"

The plane landed shortly. She made her way out to Immigration where she was met by a man who literally was the size of an industrial refrigerator, Australian of South Pacific islander blood line. The mountain-man introduced himself as "Jeff Hopoate, call me Tiny," he said.

"You're joking."

He smiled, the face softened; attractive in an odd kind of way, "They were joking when they called me that but it's stuck now." He was wearing a tight T-shirt. Tight she thought because it was stretched against his muscular torso and biceps. He tried to take her backpack and said, "Follow me."

"Ah, I'm not in a habit of following strangers," she said as she maintained a grip on her backpack, not that there was anything valuable in it. And not that she could do anything about it either if he decided he really, really liked her backpack. She could scream she supposed though she doubted anyone would come to her aid, not against this mountain-man anyway.

"He warned me you'd be difficult," he said beaming. He took out his dog tag from under his shirt, "Only identification you're gonna get from me, lady. I'm only takin you to Roma station and makin sure you're safely on the train." _Difficult? The nerve of that man._

"Ok," she said. Sensing she was in no danger.

She had to ran after Tiny who walked unbelievably fast for his gargantuan size. One would have thought someone like him would be walking on his haunches, not walking speedily upright. When they got to his vehicle, his eyes discreetly scanned the surroundings as he opened the passenger door. She climbed in the cab of what Aussies call a 'ute' short for utility truck.

They hadn't gone far when his cellphone rang, Tiny passed it on to her, "Answer it. It's for yous."

"Huh?" she said in surprise.

"Answer it. Trust me, it's for yous."

"Hello," she said.

"You made it," it was Bryce. Her heart skipped a bit, she had to sigh to disguise the elevated heart rate that's threatening to drum out of her chest.

"Yeah, tired though." She heard him chuckle, then said light-heartedly, "You'll love the train ride. It'll be an experience." There was a pause, "You probably haven't heard, Michael's dead."

"As in Michael Piper? Alias Maddox Page?" she said in disbelief.

"Yeah." She didn't know what to say, it was such a sudden about face. The man she was running away from was no more. _So _w_as there still any point in going to seek refuge at his place? _Cameron sensed her indecision, "If you prefer to leave Rajo's gift to Tiny, and turn back, it's ok."

"No... I'd really like to see Gulf Savannah if that's still ok with you."

"Of course. Take care, I'll see you soon." The line disconnected. When she tried to hand the phone back, Tiny flashed a smile, "I told you it's yours. It's your Australian phone and pre-paid. What can I say? The man thinks of everything."

Tiny took her to board the Sunlander to Cairns, a journey of 1,691 km (1,050 miles) from Brisbane. "This is where I leave yous," he said. "Enjoy your stay at Cameron Country." She smiled back and said, "Thanks."

She found a brochure and peruse it as she waited to be shown her seat. _The Sunlander has been chosen as one of the World's Top 25 Rail Journeys by the Society of International Railway Travellers. See the Queensland coastline unfold as you relish the comfort of a traditional train service, offering overnight sleepers, dining, lounge and club cars. Our guests tell us The Sunlander is the highlight of their holiday, with the social on-board atmosphere ensuring you meet plenty of new friends along the way._

The steward came forward, took her ticket and to her surprise she was taken to a single sleeping berth. "You're in Queenslander Class," he said. _Queenslander class?_

She hurriedly flipped through the brochure and came to the description of what she might expect to enjoy._ Queenslander Class has its own fine dining restaurant and lounge car for the exclusive use of Queenslander Class guests. All Queenslander Class sleeping berths are fitted with overhead reading lights, washbasins, fresh crisp linen, stationery packs and toiletries. Your comfort and enjoyment is paramount for our dedicated staff, who will pamper you with special touches such as robes and slippers, and a bed turndown service. _She smiled broadly. _What's not to like?_

He left after settling her in, she continued reading. _Dining in Queenslander Class is one of the true highlights of the journey. Enjoy mouth watering gourmet meals prepared by our expert onboard chef, made from the freshest local produce and complemented by an award winning selection of Australian wines. The signature seafood platter, delivered direct from the trawler to the train in Townsville, is a firm favourite with our Queenslander Class passengers. Meals are served in the fine dining atmosphere of an exclusive restaurant car. All meals are included in the price of your Queenslander Class fare. __**Goodness, who paid for all these? The Australian Government? Can't be?!**_

She was tired and hungry but first things first. Shower. There was a shower facility at the end of the premium train car and she wanted to be the first in line to use it. She made use of the complimentary robe, slippers and toiletries. She slept like a baby, undisturbed, til lunch time. She searched in her backpack for something decent to wear. Her choices were bad and less bad. _Well, Aussies were supposed to be laid back. Let's see how laid back. _She selected a cotton plaid button up shirt that appeared less crumpled than the others, blue denim jeans ripped at the knees and a pair of Converse shoes. _This get-up_, she thought grimly, _to eat in an exclusive dining car! Oh holy crap!_

Lunch didn't disappoint. And no one paid her any attention. She relaxed with a drink the Queenslander Class lounge car. _S_he sat back and marvelled at the spectacular scenery as they flashed by the window. She ignored all the on-board entertainment, she could watch all the movies she wanted back home. But the scenery out there? It's now or never. She regretted she couldn't go walkabout on this journey but she determined that she would on the return leg.

Mom and Dad Camden left Sunday afternoon, "Call us if you need anything." They thanked their parents and promised to do just that.

Win was feeling slightly better, "Let's go visit Moppet."

"Are you sure you're up to it?"

Mrs Scarlatti nodded and gave him a winning smile, "Yeah, sure."

"How's the knee?" he asked concerned.

"Much better."

They drove in silence to the pet hospital, occasionally Spike snatched glances at his wife's profile just to check her out. Win noticed, "Will you stop checking me out. I'm fine." At the stop light, she reached out to rub the creases on his forehead, "You're worried... stop."

"I can't help it," he said. He kissed her hand, a simple loving gesture that brought tears to her eyes.

They fronted up at the reception desk to inquire about Moppet. Dr Crawford was in, "Let me take you to her. She's doing well. She's definitely spirited and a fighter." They were taken to the pet ward. She laid eyes on Moppet for the first time since the assault, in her eyes, the canine wasn't well. She was in post-operative fog but was immediately alert when she saw them walk in. She spent time with Moppet while Spike discussed the pet's post-operative care with the attending vet, he wanted to know primarily when they could take her home.

When Spike was done conferring with Dr Crawford, it was his turn with Moppet. Winnie took a step back to give them space. She couldn't help it, grief assaulted her like a runway truck. It hit without warning, she left and sought privacy in the ladies. In a lot of ways, Moppet was Spike's dog. Liley hers. She didn't know how it happened, it just did. As much as she loved them both, Liley has a very special place in her heart. She felt her loss hard and the raging hormones weren't helping.

It was the Vet assistant who found her. "Um, he's looking for you..." She hastily wiped the tears, "Coming." She came out to find Spike looking much happier, "Moppet can come home tomorrow," he said. She smiled back, excited at the prospect of having their surviving baby home.

On the way out, Spike asked the receptionist if Charlie Lewis had been in, she brightened up and said, "Oh, he just got here. If you go into the waiting room, I'll let him know you're here."

Spike led Winnie to the waiting room, "Who's Charlie Lewis?"

"A six-year old boy I met here..."

"Officer Spike," said a tiny voice from behind. They turned at the same time, Spike affectionately rubbed his head, "Hey, little fella, how are ya?"

"I'm great," he said enthusiastically. Spike nodded to Mrs Lewis and introduced Winnie.

"Who's Winnie?"

"My wife."

"Can I see her face?" Spike looked at Winnie who said, "Of course." She crouched down infront of the child. He touched her head, his fingers traced her eyebrows and moved to her cheeks which made her wince. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"A little."

"I'm sorry. I will be gentle." Winnie laugh, a small crackly laugh. "You have a nice laughter and you are very beautiful," he said. Even though completely blind, nothing seemed to escape his notice.

"How's Pea Nuts doing?" asked Spike, kneeling in front of the boy.

"Oh, he's doing very well, thank you. We get to take him home in a couple of days."

They would have liked to talk for longer but Winnie was looking fragile, "We have to go, I want to take my wife home." He fished out a business card and gave it to Mrs Lewis, "Call me anytime if you need anything."

Spike insisted on taking Winnie to bed which she didn't think was necessary, "Please don't treat me like an invalid, I can look after myself." He gazed at her and said, "Humour me. Let me do this for _my_ sake." She shook her head and said, "Don't the City need you to keep the peace?" He looked at his wife like she has a hole in the head. "I'm not going to even answer that."

Belle couldn't think of anytime in her recent history when she had such a wonderful time on the train. _What irony! _She was sorry when she finally reached her destination. She was the last to disembark, it's become a habit. She didn't know what to expect. She felt stupid for not asking to see a photo of Billy, _How would I recognise her? _

A little boy made a beeline for her. Well, who she initially thought was a little boy. With pixie hair style, covered with a baker's boy cap; attired in dirty overall, rolled up to the small of her ankle, she was a living epitomy of Tom Sawyer, as narrated by Huckleberry Finn.

"Hi Belle," she said. She was very small, but the same bluey-green flashed mischievously. "I'm Billy, this is Raf." She shook hands with both, Raf took her backpack. They walked slowly to a well-used ute, she sat sandwiched between Raf and Billy, who was driving. "Ready for a road trip?" she asked nonchalant.

"Road trip?" she said her eyebrows lifting. Billy laughed, "He didn't tell you? We live in the middle of nowhere." Raf cackled. She thought, _Oh, my God, he's really mad,_ thinking of Bryce.

"Don't worry," Raf said, "You'll survive." It was well into the dead of night when they arrived at the outback station. She could swear they met no one on the drive over.

Spike and Winnie picked up Moppet. Happily reunited, the trio got on a camper van, Spike had decided the night before, without first consulting his wife that they were going on a road trip. When he told her in the morning, her response was, "What? Are you out of your mind?"

"Nope... it's what the doctor ordered. I've got a week compassionate leave and so do you."

"But..."

Spike raised a finger, "Don't say another word." At any rate, she got caught up with the feverish packing. He was really into it and it was, she admitted, a little contagious. "Where are we going?"

His answer was, "Let destiny speak."

Now they're all on-board with no where to go. Spike took out his North American atlas, closed his eyes, flipped the pages, readied a finger to land on a page, "We're going to...drum roll," he opened his eyes, "Oklahoma."

"You're mad!" she said. He put a finger on his lips and said, "Ssshh."

Belle wasn't sure what roused her. The hens and the roosters crowing, the sun slowly moving up to the sky from the horizon, the smell of bacon sizzling in a frying pan or the happy laughter of a child. At any rate, she clambered out of bed to get ready to face the day. She was grateful that the guest room has an en suite. She laughed at a sign hanging on the shower head, _Time limit: 5 minutes._ _Penalty applies._ It showed a sketch of a man being fed to a crocodile. She has no intention of becoming croc feed so she obeyed the time limit.

She came out of her room, and bumped into an African boy, he must be around seven or eight, "Good'ay," he said.

"Rajo," called out an elderly woman. _Rajo? _The boy replied, "Coming grandma," he flashed her an endearing smile.

"Who are you talking to?" she overheard her asked.

"The visitor. Is she Dad's girlfriend?" she nearly died. The elderly woman laughed, "No, she's your Dad's friend."

She stealtily approached holding a soft toy. Smiling, she said, "Umm. Rajo, this is a gift from your Dad." Rajo and the grandmother both groaned, "He's hardly home so he thinks Rajo's still a baby. He's nearly eight, for crying out loud."

"Where's my manner? Come sit, have breakfast with us. They'll be here soon."

"Where's Billy? And Raf?"

"Out in the paddock," said Rajo. "I'll take you later. But we must eat first." She couldn't stop herself falling in love with the charming boy but she couldn't for the life of her imagine how Bryce got himself an African son. Grandma must have read her mind, "He's Somali. Bryce adopted him when he was a year old."

"Oh," she said understanding dawning.

"I'm Sue, the mother of this mob." She smiled and wondered what stories, histories and discoveries she could possibly find herself in. Bryce mother looked exotic. "Were you born in Australia?" she asked thinking Sue was perhaps a migrant.

Sue laughed, "I'm half aborigine from the Wugal Wugal tribe in Cape York. My father was English."

"I apologise," she said, not intending to offend.

"Don't worry. It doesn't worry me."

Breakfast was soon served and they ate heartily, Billy said, "We're heading out shortly to swim in the river, wanna come along?"

"Sure," she said.

Spike did all the driving. From Toronto to Oklahoma was 1,802 km (1,120 miles). If they drive without stopping, they would be in Oklahoma in 24 hours, but what was the fun in that? They stopped at places to rest and eat and walk and to enjoy the scenery. They spent the night in the camper van in a secluded, secure national park.

They were getting ready to move on again when they stumbled upon a fawn, barely alive covered in pellet wounds. Spike carried it to the van. Moppet hovered over the animal protectively. "What are we gonna do?" she asked feeling frightened for the injured wild life.

Spike Googled the nearest pet hospital, but found a wild life sanctuary instead; they weren't too far from Wild Heart Ranch, he set the address in not-so-often used GPS. They got there in less than 15 minutes, Spike carried the dying fawn, followed closely by Winnie and Moppet.

He spotted a volunteer, "Excuse me, we need help," he said. She came over and saw that the little deer was in a bad way, "Follow me, quick," she said. A vet was on hand to take a look at the fawn, who they named Bambi.

They weren't sure what to do next, should they linger? Should they just go on now that Bambi was in safe hands. The volunteer came over, "I'm Michelle. Thanks for bringing the fawn to us."

The couple smiled, Spike said, "It's the least we can do."

An animal lover to the core, Winnie asked, "What do you do here?"

"We rescue and rehabilitate injured animals and release them back to the wild when they recover."

They weren't expecting what happened next, Winnie, Spike and Moppet ended up spending a full day nursing injured animals. They became volunteers for a day but supporters for a life-time. They left to return home, to find their personal injuries have somewhat healed, too.


	21. Baby Love

_Author's Note: This chapter dedicated to Sewtunes. _

_Bryce and Billy's ethnicity was first explained in the multi-chapter story, "Treasures." _

**Baby Love**

The first week after Michael Piper passed; and, they both went back at work. At Winnie's insistence, no one apart from her own parents knew of the miscarriage, "I don't want people's pity." Spike said he understood but wondered whether she had returned to work too soon.

Tia Cora was Win's shining star at work, always ready with a smile and a Spanish empanada or two, "You need to fatten up," she'd say to her every morning.

She returned to a whole heap of ballistic reports that needed to be done and stacks of firearms to test. Other cases were piling in and keeping her busy. The case of Thomas Andrews-Bergen's murder was solved but not the case of the missing millions and not the sale of Uranium to people unknown.

Det Anton Curtis came to her one day, chewing gum like always, happy that the case was "poof, gone… other people are looking into it. Glad to hand it over to them."

Win smiled back, "You should be out celebrating it's off your to-do list." Then she handed him a file, "Here's the drive-by shooting ballistic report."

He snatched it from her hand, screwed his face and said, "You sure know how to ruin a guy's life. I was hoping you'd say 'I haven't gotten around to it.'" She laughed at the Detective.

At SRU HQ, Sam Braddock grabbed Spike by the collar and jokingly hauled him inside the men's shower room. "What on earth was on that file?"

The Techie was taken aback, "Why?"

"Bloody Military Intelligence keeps bugging me to join them. Keeps saying anyone who could get their hands on that kind of intelligence should be in their outfit. I'm barely able to get them off my backside," he hissed. Spike commiserated with Sam, there was a time CSIS was unto him like a leech; in the end, the only way to keep them at bay was to agree to come on-board on a consulting role.

Spike replied, "All I know was what I told you…. Suspected uranium sale but beats me to whom and how it fits together. You know what, there's one person who might know… her name is Belle. She's presently still in hiding. Remember Bryce Cameron? Billy's brother?"

Sam's face brightened, "Yeah, I remember. What's Belle got to do with him?"

"He's protecting her."

"I see… do you have Bryce's contact detail?"

"Sure but don't tell him you got it from me…."

The blonde ex-Special Forces smiled and said, "Yeah, and he's stupid enough not to suspect, right."

Spike thought about for a fraction of a second, "Yeah, you're right… on second thought…" He turned around to retreat. Sam grabbed him by the collar again, "You're not goin anywhere till I have Wolf's number."

"Why don't I patch you on to him? One tick." The Techie pulled a burnt phone out, speed dialled a number, and a very sleepy voice answered, "Hello, who's this?"

"Bryce, Spike here. Remember Sam Braddock."

"Yeah, I do, why?"

"He wants to talk to you," he passed on the phone to Sam who explained his predicament. The SAS said, "You and me, both. Interpol is hounding my ass. And I'm thinking Belle's my answer. Leave it with me."

"Thanks," said Sam. "But, buddy, I don't have the luxury of time here. I'm getting short with these people. Don't want you to have to spring me out of prison." The Wolf laughed, said he understood.

Belle has adjusted well to life in the Outback. She has since found out that the forebears of the present-day Camerons were _simple_ pastoralists, until this mob's Dad, Bertram "Bear" Cameron enlisted with the Royal Australia Air Force. And ever since then, every one of the offspring has joined the Service.

"The Outback… it's in the blood," Sue explained. The two of them hit it off amazingly well. "When Bear retired, we inherited the Station. His siblings weren't interested. They're more accustomed to city living now."

Cameron Station measured approximately 150,000 acres, "One of the smallest land holdings around here." Belle's jaw dropped.

"We have outback stations the size of Texas." Sue explained.

"Do you ever get lonely? I mean when your children are away…"

"Rajo's good company, and the business and the people who run it with me, they occupy my time. When Bear was alive, it never occurred to me what loneliness was. The Cameron was my adoptive family. They adopted me when I was two. Their Dad promised to look after me when he was 7 and we were in love from back then. So, you can say I married my brother." She said with a hearty laugh.

"You were in love since you were two?" she said.

The elderly woman laughed, "And he was seven."

"The mission took me from my mother. The Government back in the day had a policy of forced integration; I was one of the 'Stolen Generation.' I was placed in different foster homes; then was I was adopted by the Camerons. I was loved as a child. I found my mother 16 years ago, at Bear's insistence. It was he who encouraged the kids to learn of their aboriginal heritage."

"Bryce middle name is Mabo, is that an aboriginal word?"

"In 1982, Eddie Mabo, David Passi and James Rice, from the Meriam people of the Murray Islands in the Torres Strait commenced legal proceedings in the High Court, a test case to determine the legal rights of the Meriam people to land on the islands of Mer (Murray Island), Dauar and Waier in the Torres Strait. The islands were annexed to the state of Queensland in 1879 but prior to British contact the Meriam people had been living on the islands for yonks. The test case on Native Title lasted 10 years. In January 1992, Mabo died of cancer, five months later the High court announced its historic decision, that native title existed and it was up to the Aboriginal or Islander people to determine who owned what land. Sad, he never saw it happen.

"The five boys asked for a change of name and Mabo was added. We included Billy in the change. They're all B.M. Cameron. You should see the piles of unopened letters addressed to B.M. Cameron." She chuckled merrily again.

Deep down, Belle felt jealous of the richness of the Cameron's family history. She said to Sue, "I couldn't tell... nothing in Bryce or Billy suggested they were part aborigine."

"Aboriginal gene's recessive," she explained.

Their conversation was interrupted when Rajo bounded to them, excited and full of joy, "Nanna… Dad's coming home. He's coming home." She felt a lump in her throat. Sue turned to her grandchild and said, "Who told you?"

"I spoke to him on the phone. He called Aunt Billy." The boy was beside himself, and hurried off to join a mob of kangaroo that inhabited the Station, along with the humans, the cows, the sheep, the alpacas, and the tourists. Sue shook her head and murmured, "The boy needs his father. Bryce has to make a decision to stay put."

"Doesn't he go to school?" she asked.

"He does. He's home-schooled. Distance education. Billy and I take turns to tutor him. Would you like to give us a break while you're here?"

"I'd like to but I'm not sure how long I'm staying. I have unfinished business back home. Perhaps I should return to Toronto, to get it over and done with." Sue looked at her sympathetically. Belle, to her own horror, said "Could you do with a week's break?"

"Oh yes," Sue replied without skipping a beat.

"Alright then, I'll be his tutor… for a week." She didn't count on herself falling in love with the eight year old boy in that time.

At home, Spike kept a watchful eye on Win and Moppet, who had to wear Spike's old T-shirt, cut to size, to stop her licking her incision. They noticed she was getting lonelier, less rambunctious and more placid. To help her with her loneliness, they took her to Winnie's parents' home for baby-sitting when they're at work. It helped a fraction.

They were cuddled late one night when Win, without rhyme or reason, lambasted herself for being ridiculous, "I can't believe how sad I am for my miscarriage. It wasn't even a baby or a foetus. It was an embryo…"

Spike held her close and said, "First, it's our miscarriage, not yours. Second, don't belittle your pain. It doesn't matter if it was a dot. You were pregnant, and you knew it." He stroked her cheek with his finger, and asked, "What would ease your pain?"

In tears, she said, "I don't want to just pretend the baby didn't happen. He, she existed. I can't just pretend it didn't happen."

"Well, why don't we plant a tree in memory of our baby. Since it was still an embryo and it was neither a baby boy nor a baby girl, let's call our tree, 'Baby Love Scarlatti'. Let's plant it next to Liley."

The Sunday following Spike dug a hole next to Liley's grave and they planted another Maple tree they called "Baby Love Scarlatti." A memorial for a child, who was though brief. Never to be forgotten.

Bryce returned home. The first they knew of his arrival was the 'thump, thump, thump' of the helicopter rotors that whipped up dust like a cyclone. "Dad's home," hollered the child, bolting out of the student desk where they were huddled working on math.

She came out to see what's going on, in time to see Bryce fast-roping down the heli. She was horrified to think that he might land on the child who was excitedly jumping up and down under the flying machine. "Rajo, come back here, now!"

Bryce was aware of his son's excited presence and just, barely, avoided landing on him. The rope which normally would have been thrown out of the heli to prevent the risk of snagging on to an object and thereby endangering the flight crew was hauled up. He gave the thumbs up and it peeled away. To her horror, the Wolf grabbed his son by the cuff of his collar, and tossed him in the air. The boy gleefully asked, "Again. Do it again."

Billy, Raf and Sue came out to greet the new arrival. Raf coming forward first, and said, "You sure know how to make an entrance."

"Beats havin to drive, mate," he said. They bumped shoulders and thumped each other on the back, then Bryce made a beeline for the women, hugging his Mom tightly and tackling Billy. He said "Hi" to her and said, "We need to talk… later, not now."

After dinner that night, they drove down to a billabong, near the homestead, near being three kilometres. A billabong is a large pond that is formed when a river or creek changes direction, and cut off from the main stream of water. Put simply, it's backwater that's formed a stagnant pool. They sat by the edge and listened to sound of splashing water. "Frogs," he said. For a stagnant pool, it sure was full of life, "It's great for fishing too".

He invited her to walk around it, wild life spotting with his Maglite. They returned to the Ute and laid on the back of the truck. The dark sky glistened. The moon hanged like a bright pendant along a necklace of stars. Bryce pointed out the constellations and dazzled her with facts on how to navigate by them. Finally, came the moment of truth, "Michael Piper…," he said.

"What about him?"

"There are a lot of people who want to close this chapter. They think you hold the key."

"Yeah, I know," she said, sounding melancholic, for it meant going back home but she liked it here, in a safari country of rich savannah grasslands teeming with wild life_. Even the people are wild_, she mused.

"Time to face the music," she heard him say.

"Yes, it's time. When do we leave?" He sighed. "I'm not leaving. I just completed my last assignment for Queen and Country. I'm retired... so I'm gonna enjoy life and be a father to Rajo."

"Retired?"

"I hit the big 4-0, so I'm out to pasture." She looked at him and wondered how a maverick would thrive in a life of peace and how he'd settled down in a place so remote. But then she supposed if there was a place for this man it would be here in the midst of untamed wilderness.

"When do I have to leave?"

"Not up to me… no one is sending you away. When you're ready, I supposed." She exhaled. The reality was unmistakeable. The sooner, the better. The further along she immersed herself in this sun-drenched, vast rugged land of extraordinary beauty, the harder it would be for her to leave. She made a snap decision. She made a commitment to Sue a week tutoring Rajo. Tomorrow was a week, so she said, "The day after tomorrow."

"Ok," he said, "That settles it then." He got up, jumped down from the back of the truck and helped her down.

At breakfast, she told everyone she was going back to Toronto tomorrow. It came as a surprise to all, she seemed so happy at the Station, until Bryce arrived. They all look at him, the Wolf defensively said, "Nothing to do with me…"

"Are you coming back?" Rajo asked. Before she could answer, he said, "You want to… I can tell."

The day passed by quickly. The two of them tried their hardest not to be in the same place for any length of time. She wasn't certain who was avoiding who or if it was even deliberate.

The day of her departure came. Rajo's bright eyes lasered on to her as they bade each other goodbye, he said, "I love you." Just like that, pure and simple, as only a child could say.

"I love you, too," she said.

Bryce moved closer, rubbed his son's head, and encouraged the long goodbyes to end. "Come on, mate… we've gotta go."

Sue was last to give her farewell hug and to her surprised, she whispered into her ears, "Be patient, he's just a little slow on the up-take." She covered her face but Sue wasn't finished, "See you again… soon."

She and Bryce got in the Ute, when he finally spoke, he said, quite simply, "I'll see you again soon."

"Soon," she replied, quite simply.


	22. Serenity Blue

_Author's Note: Dedicated to kdj539. Thank you, my friend. And, to you, Hilary Parker, my gratitude for lending me the name, Serenity Blue._

_This chapter was inspired by a real life story._

**Serenity Blue**

Belle returned to Toronto to give full disclosure of her discoveries, but what was meant to be a straight-forward couple of day interview became a job offer. Make that offers; from military intelligence all the way along the line to the FBI in the U.S.

She told them she wasn't interested but was happy to supply Michael Piper's numbered Swiss bank account to the people who mattered in the investigation. "Following the trail of money in reversed is someone else's task, I'm finished," she said.

No amount of invoking patriotic duty could sway her. She would rather be somewhere else. For years, since she lost her parents at 18, she's been alone. At Cameron Station she found a family, that's where she wanted to be.

At the end of the interview, after she's given them all she had, she called Bryce's number. "How did you go?" he said.

"Good. I'm done here," she said. "What are you doing?"

"Feeding the chooks," he said and she laughed.

Sensing it wasn't a social call, he asked, "So, what can I do for you?"

"I was wondering… if there's a place for me there. I'm really done here." There was a pause. A long silent pause, it may have only been a couple of seconds, but it sure felt like an eternity. She swallowed and thought_, My God what have I done._

"Let me know when you're coming, I'll pick you up." Then, he said point-blank, the one who was slow on the up-take, "One way ticket, right?"

A breathe caught in her throat, "Yeah, one way ticket."

It was 5am in outback Gregory Downs, Northern Queensland; the sky was ablaze with colours as the sun burst through the clouds. Bryce went back to the homestead, lifted Rajo right out of bed, and said, "Guess who's coming back?"

"Belle," he said. "I knew it." Father and son hugged. It was, for them, a magical moment; when fate intervened, so with nary an effort on their part, it all came together.

Moppet has healed physically. Dr Crawford said she could not find anything wrong with the canine, "She managed to do a full recovery." However, emotionally, all was not well. She's became withdrawn and depressed.

"I strongly suggest a companion for her," she said during one of their consultations.

"I couldn't agree more," said Spike.

The couple bundled their dog in the car and went to the animal shelter where Win used to volunteer and where he first met Moppet. "Let's let her choose her playmate," she suggested.

"I think you're right."

Win caught up with old friends while Spike accompanied Moppet in the yard where dogs were out and about playing games. She stayed by Dad's side for a while, wondering what it was all about. After much coaxing, Moppet joined in, jumping hoops, running and generally having a very good time. Spike stood watching on the sideline, his arms across on his chest. He noticed a golden retriever standing in the corner, _probably the same age as Moppet, _he thought. The dog hasn't moved from the same spot for about half an hour. Spike made an approach; the dog turned towards him and visibly shook.

Moppet saw Spike and followed. Then something extraordinary happened. As if she knew she paused in front of the other golden retriever. Then, took a step forward and paused again; as if she was telling him, "I'm not a threat. I'm a friend." Then she took another step. Then another; until they were nose to nose.

Win and the Coordinator stepped out to the yard just in time to witness the miracle. Mary, the animal shelter Boss said, "He's blind… from birth." She walked towards Spike, put her arm through his and leaned on him. They watched Moppet and her new friend bond, almost instantly becoming the best of friends.

Spike turned to Winnie and said, "I think she's picked her new friend."

Mary who overheard this said, "Not to douse your hope, but he's a very special case. Bruna is blind…since birth. She's scheduled to be euthanised tomorrow. She's been with two different owners, and been returned to us twice. She's become more nervous and more unmanageable."

They looked at each other, then at Moppet and her new friend. "We'll take her," said Winnie undeterred.

"Are you sure? It's not going to be easy," she said. "I hate putting down pets but more than that I hate pets being returned. The rejection damages them."

"We understand," said Spike, "but we're sure." They all went inside to do the paper work, "What would you like to name her?"

Without hesitation, Winnie said, "Serenity Blue. Serenity Blue Scarlatti."

"I like that name," he said.

"Me, too," said Mary. She gave them names of specialists who were expert on blind dogs and encouraged them to call if they needed help with Serenity.

Back at the yard, they put a leash around Serenity's neck and gave the other end to Moppet. They led Moppet out, and Moppet led Serenity. The blind golden retriever followed without fear. They all watched; the crew and volunteers alike, the procession of Scarlattis as they marched passed, Mary made the comment, "I think that's what you call _blind_ faith."

And, that's how Serenity came to be.

The End -


End file.
